GIFT   OF 

PROFESSOR    C.A.  KOFOID 


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>  >  ) 


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Garden  of  a   Tea  House  near  Miyanoshita 

From  <i  photograph 


WEST  AND  BY  EAST 


BY 

LEONARD  EATON  SMITH 


Hew  ]Qorfc 

Ube  fmtcfeerbocfeer  press 

1900 


GIFT  01 


PROFESSOR    C.A.  KGFOID 


•  ••       •    i  i  i  u  >    • 
»••  •  ••••»•    • 

•  •*  »  •         ••««€         • 

•  *•"  •        •  •      •  •  •• 

I    ■  •       *««     ••••«  ••• 

•      k        »       *•"  ••••••  •        • 


FILIUS  LIBELLUM 

QUOD  PATRI  DEDICARE  SPERABAM 

NUNC  PATRIS  MEMORIAE 

DEDICO 


M217015 


PREFACE 

This  short  and  imperfect  account  of  a  trip  I 
made  in  1897  to  Japan  has  been  written  primarily 
for  the  amusement  of  myself  and  of  those  with 
whom  I  travelled,  with  the  idea  that  it  may  serve 
to  recall  scenes  and  incidents  pleasant  to  remem- 
ber. It  contains  nothing  new  and  nothing  stir- 
ring, but  aims  merely  at  being  clear  and  accurate. 
Such  is  my  defence  for  its  existence. 

L.  E.  S. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

I.  Outwards     . 

PAGE 

I 

II. 

The  Pacific  . 

.       19 

III. 

Yokohama 

•             3° 

IV. 

A  Japanese  Street 

41 

V. 

Kamakura  and  Eynoshima 

46 

VI. 

Nikko    .... 

6l 

VII. 
VIII. 

Tokio     .... 
Matsuda  Entertains  . 

80 

95 

IX. 

MlYANOSHITA 

103 

X. 

Kioto    .... 

122 

XI. 

Homewards  . 

145 

WEST  AND  BY  EAST. 


CHAPTER   I. 

OUTWARDS. 

IN  June,  1897,  I  came  down  from  Oxford,  and 
my  long-cherished  desire  to  travel  could  be 
granted.  For  various  reasons  the  complete  grand 
tour  was  impracticable,  but  a  visit  to  the  United 
States  was  easily — almost  necessarily — extended 
into  a  trip  to  Japan. 

My  outward  route  was  to  be  from  Liverpool 
direct  to  Quebec  or  Montreal  by  sea,  overland  to 
Vancouver,  and  thence  to  Yokohama,  returning 
by  Hawaii  to  San  Francisco,  so  to  New  York 
and  home. 

I  left  Liverpool  on  Thursday,  August  19th,  in 
the  Labrador,  She  carried  about  one  hundred 
and  fifty  first-class  passengers,  a  larger  number 
than  she  had  ever  before  had  on  board.  I  had 
applied  very  late  for  a  berth,  and  at  first  thought 
I  could  not  get  one,  but  at  the  last  moment  a 


2  West  and  by  East 

berth  was  given  up  in  one  of  the  best  rooms  in 
the  ship,  and  I  tumbled  into  it.  The  pressure 
was  due  partly  to  the  number  of  Canadians  return- 
ing from  the  Jubilee,  partly  to  the  crowd  of  doc- 
tors, thirty-four  or  thereabouts,  going  out  to  the 
Medical  Congress  in  Montreal. 

The  weather  as  we  left  the  Landing-stage  was 
brilliant,  and  later  on  the  sunset  over  the  Welsh 
hills  was  very  beautiful,  and  we  were  therefore 
rather  disgusted  on  coming  on  deck  the  following 
morning  in  Lough  Foyle  to  find  a  boisterous  wind 
and  the  hills  draped  in  long  trails  of  mist.  We 
lay  at  anchor  for  some  time  till  the  tug  arrived 
bearing  the  mails  and  the  most  distinguished  of 
our  passengers,  Sir  Wilfrid  Laurier  and  his  party. 
Soon  we  were  past  the  long  spit  of  sand  which 
protects  the  mouth  of  the  lough  and  diving  into 
the  long  westerly  swell.  As  our  ship  was  light  it 
did  not  take  much  to  make  her  pitch,  and  before 
night  many  of  the  passengers  were  unable  to  en- 
joy the  rugged  outlines  of  the  mountains  of  the 
Irish  coast.  Later  in  the  afternoon  we  passed 
between  the  mainland  and  Tory  Island,  a  rocky, 
desolate  island  against  which  the  waves  were 
dashing  high  in  the  bright  sunshine,  and  whose 
white-walled  lighthouse  seemed  a  strangely  for- 
saken outpost  of  civilisation. 

Our  course  lay  far  to  the  north,  coming  within 
two  hundred  miles  of  Greenland,  and  the  weather 


Outwards  3 

was  uncomfortable,  cold,  rainy,  windy,  though 
for  the  most  part  not  technically  bad.  But  the 
passengers  were  a  very  sociable  community,  the 
doctors  especially  being  in  very  high  spirits,  as 
befitted  a  holiday  trip,  slightly  tempered  by  the 
prospect  of  technical  papers  and  discussions.  On 
Tuesday  we  sighted  several  icebergs  of  respect- 
able size.  The  weather  was  then  cold  and  clear, 
and  the  sun  bright,  and  as  we  steamed  past  we 
could  see  deep  blue  shadows  in  the  clefts  of  the 
ice  exactly  similar  to  those  that  lie  in  the  crevasses 
of  a  glacier. 

On  Wednesday  night  we  crept  cautiously 
through  the  Straits  ot  Belle  Isle,  and  early  on 
Thursday  morning  were  well  in  the  Gulf  of  St. 
Lawrence.  Before  evening  we  were  wrapped  in 
the  fog  that  haunts  all  this  region, — the  evening 
of  all  others  that  was  fixed  for  the  inevitable  con- 
cert. Sir  Wilfrid  Laurier,  who  had  been  more 
or  less  incapacitated  all  the  voyage  by  sea-sickness 
— ("  And  a  very  good  thing  for  him  too,"  said 
all  the  doctors,  (<  after  all  the  banquets  and  din- 
ners he  has  had  to  attend  ") — took  the  chair. 
The  constantly  recurring  blasts  of  the  fog-horn 
marred  what  was  otherwise  a  good  average  steamer 
concert. 

On  Friday  morning  a  long  line  of  low  wooded 
hills  lay  close  on  our  port  side,  and  then  the 
Labrador  coast  to  the  north  could  be  made  out 


4  West  and  by  East 

gradually  drawing  closer,  so  that  by  night  we 
were  fairly  in  the  River  St.  Lawrence.  We  had 
all  day  been  so  near  to  the  shore  that  we  could 
make  out  the  houses.  They  were  at  first  few 
and  far  between,  then  they  became  more  fre- 
quent, till  as  night  fell  they  formed  one  almost 
continuous  line.  Soon  after  dark  we  stopped 
off  Rimouski,  where  the  mails  go  ashore.  As  we 
lay  there  the  scent  of  the  land  came  down  the 
great  river  very  sweet  and  grateful.  Away  to 
the  south  bonfires  were  blazing,  rockets  and 
Roman  candles  soaring  in  honour  of  Laurier's  re- 
turn, but  we  were  now  so  far  from  the  shore  that 
it  took  us  some  time  to  make  out  just  what 
were  these  queer  little  moving  lights  in  the  dis- 
tance. Then  a  tug  came  out  of  the  darkness, 
laden  with  a  deputation  of  welcome,  the  saloon 
was  filled  with  an  enthusiastic  crowd,  and  there 
followed  much  speechifying  in  French. 

On  Saturday  I  woke  to  find  that  we  were  just 
approaching  Quebec,  getting  up  steam  after 
Laurier's  departure  in  a  tender.  His  formal 
welcome  home  was  not  yet,  and  so  he  must  not 
take  the  edge  off  it  by  landing  at  the  public  quay. 
A  few  minutes  afterwards  we  were  moored  along- 
side the  wharf,  and  had  one  hour  and  a  half  to 
see  what  we  could  of  the  fascinating  city.  For 
myself,  I  took  a  caleche,  a  one-horse  vehicle  with 
a  gig  body  and  a  hood,  hung  on  C  springs  and 


Outwards  5 

straps  between  two  very  high  wheels.  The  body 
holds  two  people,  and  the  driver  sits  on  a  little 
seat  on  top  of  what  should  be  the  dashboard. 
The  horses  are  strong  and  excellent,  and  it  is  well 
they  are  for  the  hills  are  something  to  marvel  at. 
The  motion  is  distinctly  buoyant  and  erratic,  but 
very  enjoyable.  I  went  up  to  the  citadel  and 
saw  the  antiquated  guns  mounted  there,  and  the 
superb  view  of  the  city  clinging  to  the  slopes  of  the 
hill,  of  the  broad  river  sweeping  away  in  a  mag- 
nificent curve,  and  of  the  opposite  island  and  hills. 
I  had  at  first  intended  to  land  at  Quebec  and 
go  up  to  Montreal  by  rail,  but  during  the  voyage 
changed  my  mind.  I  am  very  glad  I  did,  as  the 
sail  up  the  river  to  Montreal  is  beautiful.  We 
left  Quebec  at  about  10.30  A.M.,  and  went  on  till 
dusk,  anchoring  for  the  night  at  Three  Rivers. 
The  banks  are  not  very  high,  and  on  either  side 
there  is  an  almost  continuous  row  of  strangely 
foreign-looking  houses,  interspersed  with  churches 
whose  bulbous  spires  seemed  thousands  of  miles 
away  from  their  real  home.  In  one  place  the 
river  expands  into  a  broad  lake,  where  the  chan- 
nel is  marked  at  night  by  the  quaintest  little 
light-vessels.  The  channel  is  in  the  day  marked 
all  the  way  up  by  a  row  of  fir  trees  tied  to  posts 
on  the  one  side  and  a  row  of  plain  posts  on  the 
other.  In  some  places  it  is  very  narrow  and  the 
current  swift,  and  it  was  in  one  such  place  we 


6  West  and  by  East 

met  the  Scotsman  of  the  same  line,  homeward 
bound.  We  seemed  to  sweep  past  one  another 
at  a  tremendous  speed.  Both  the  Labrador  and 
the  Scotsman  have  since  been  cast  away,  the 
former  off  the  coast  of  Scotland,  the  latter  in  the 
Straits  of  Belle  Isle,  not  far  from  Labrador. 

The  night  was  memorable  from  the  splendour 
of  the  stars,  enhanced  by  the  faint  flickering  of 
the  Northern  Lights. 

Sunday  morning,  the  29th,  found  us  at  Mon- 
treal. It  seemed  to  be  almost  always  my  fate  to 
reach  places  by  steamer  in  the  early  morning,  and 
generally  my  first  impressions  of  a  port  were  as- 
sociated with  a  hasty  packing  and  a  scrambled 
breakfast  at  eight  o'clock  at  the  latest. 

Owing  to  the  Medical  Congress,  the  Windsor 
Hotel  was  very  full,  and  the  only  room  I  could 
get  was,  I  trust,  the  worst  one  in  the  house — and 
that  only  for  one  night.  However,  owing  to  the 
kindness  of  some  steamer  friends,  I  was  taken  to 
lunch  at  the  St.  James's  Club  and  then  to  dine  at 
the  Forest  and  Stream  Club,  a  country  club  some 
miles  from  the  city.  There  we  dined  in  an  upper 
room  whose  open  windows  looked  over  the  St. 
Lawrence,  at  this  point  broadened  out  into  a 
lake.  The  waiters  were  dressed  in  white  duck, 
and  altogether  the  contrast  with  the  hot  and 
noisy  hotel  was  very  refreshing. 

The  next  day   I  went  to  visit  some  cousins 


Outwards  7 

who  lived  not  far  from  Ottawa.  Their  house  lay 
twelve  miles  from  the  railway  near  some  phos- 
phate mines  which  had  originally  brought  my 
uncle,  a  mining  engineer,  to  the  spot.  It  seemed 
a  very  out-of-the-world  place.  There  I  was  for 
two  nights,  and  then  taking  the  morning  train 
to  Ottawa  caught  the  Pacific  Express.  My  next 
stopping-place  was  to  be  Rat  Portage,  a  mining 
town  at  the  head  of  the  Lake  of  the  Woods, 
about  five  hours  east  of  Winnipeg.  The  journey 
took  about  forty-eight  hours  and  was  not  very 
interesting.  The  scenery  was  monotonous. 
There  was  mile  after  mile  of  young  forest  grow- 
ing up  round  the  charred  and  unsightly  remnants 
of  an  older  one,  which  fire  had  destroyed.  The 
rock  seemed  always  near  the  surface  and  cropped 
out  constantly.  The  whole  aspect  was  desolate, 
but  with  a  redeeming  feature  —  the  numerous 
and  impressive  rivers  and  lakes. 

For  one  afternoon  we  skirted  the  northern 
shore  of  Lake  Superior.  It  is  a  fine  bluff  coast 
running  out  into  many  peninsulas  and  fringed 
with  islands.  It  is  hard  to  realize  that  it  is  the 
shore  of  a  lake  only,  as  the  water  stretches  away 
in  front  and  on  either  hand  to  an  unbroken  hori- 
zon. The  railway  line  imitates  the  curves  of  the 
shore,  following  the  little  creeks  up  to  a  point 
where  a  bridge  can  be  easily  thrown  across ,  and 
then  turning  lakewards  again. 


8  West  and  by  East 

We  reached  Rat  Portage  at  about  half-past 
nine  on  Friday  morning.  Here  I  expected  to 
meet  my  uncle,  who  was  opening  up  a  mine  in 
the  neighbourhood.  I  had  both  written  and 
telegraphed  to  him.  I  was  therefore  rather  sur- 
prised on  my  arrival  to  find  neither  him  nor  any 
word  from  him.  At  the  hotel  where  he  put  up 
they  only  knew  that  he  had  gone  up  the  lake  to 
the  mine  a  day  or  two  ago,  that  he  might  not 
be  back  for  some  days,  that  it  was  forty  miles  to 
the  mine  by  water,  but  that  a  boat  might  come 
down  from  there  during  the  day  if  I  would  wait. 
There  was  nothing  else  to  do,  as  his  office  was 
locked  up.  There  was  only  one  through  train 
each  way  a  day  and  I  had  engaged  a  berth  on 
Monday's  train  as  far  as  Banff.  The  attractions 
of  the  place  were  soon  exhausted.  The  town 
was  very  new  and  raw-looking,  with  raised  wooden 
sidewalks  lined  with  all  manner  of  drinking  places 
and  "  lunch-rooms  open  all  night."  There  were 
several  respectable-looking  churches,  the  most 
impressive  being  the  Roman  Catholic.  There 
was  electric  light  everywhere  and  telephone,  but 
unpaved  streets;  an  opera  house,  a  little  wharf, 
and  various  assay  offices.  The  weather  had  been 
fine  ever  since  landing,  but  now  it  became  un- 
pleasantly hot,  900  in  the  shade,  though  it  was 
the  4th  of  September.  The  hotel  was  preten- 
tious but  comfortless.     The  large  entrance  hall 


Outwards  9 

or  office  was  furnished  with  many  rocking-chairs 
and  spittoons  and  flies  innumerable.  Behind 
the  desk  stood  the  proprietor  (also  the  epony- 
mous hero  of  the  hotel  according  to  custom 
in  these  parts),  a  prosperous-looking  Hungar- 
ian. People  strolled  in  and  out  all  day,  sat  and 
rocked  and  smoked  for  a  little,  and  generally 
retired  down-stairs  for  a  moment  with  the  pro- 
prietor to  reappear  shortly  wiping  their  mous- 
taches. There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  sit 
there  waiting  for  somebody  or  something  to 
turn  up,  afraid  to  go  away  lest  the  opportunity 
should  come  and  be  lost,  watching  the  legions 
of  flies  buzzing  on  the  windows,  and  the  sunshine 
blazing  down  on  the  patch  of  road  visible  under 
the  awnings. 

The  situation  remained  unchanged  all  day,  and 
when  a  hot  night  succeeded  to  the  hot  day  I  went 
early  to  bed.  An  hour  or  two  after,  while  the 
heat  still  kept  me  awake,  there  came  a  knock  at 
the  door  and  a  note  fluttered  in  through  the  tran- 
som. Then  matters  were  explained.  The  launch 
belonging  to  the  mine  was  undergoing  repairs  so 
that  they  had  been  unable  for  some  days  to  send 
in  to  the  town  and  had  thus  not  received  either 
my  letter  or  telegram.  But  as  it  was  necessary 
to  get  more  stores  they  had  borrowed  a  boat  and 
in  it  had  come  my  uncle's  man  of  business  with 
a  letter  to  me  in  case  I  had  arrived.     My  uncle 


io  West  and  by  East 

expected  me  about  this  time  but  was  uncertain 
to  a  few  days. 

On  Saturday  about  one  o'clock,  after  waiting 
some  hours  for  the  supplies,  we  started  in  the 
Norahy  a  dumpy  little  steamer  like  a  small  white 
tug.  At  the  last  moment  we  took  on  board  a 
couple  of  prospectors  with  a  canoe  and  a  fine  set- 
ter. They  were  going  our  way  and  as  boats  are  so 
rare  on  the  lake  this  system  of  free  passages  is 
quite  usual.  I  found  my  companion  was  an  old 
naval  man  and  full  of  excellent  yarns  which  served 
to  wile  away  the  journey  —  a  journey  unduly  pro- 
tracted by  the  fact  that  the  Norah  had  a  bearing 
which  at  intervals  became  heated  and  forced  us 
to  stop.  The  lake  is  filled  with  innumerable 
islands  and  the  shore  curves  away  in  all  manner 
of  fantastic  peninsulas  so  that  sometimes  the 
actual  water  route  between  two  points  must  be 
twice  as  long  as  the  distance  in  a  straight  line. 
It  is  never  possible  to  see  very  far  owing  to  the 
many  islands,  and  they  all  look  so  much  alike 
that  it  would  be  very  easy  to  get  hopelessly 
lost.  The  land  seems  everywhere  very  rocky, 
the  islands  rising  rather  sharply  from  the  water 
covered  with  a  scrubby  growth  of  trees.  We 
saw  hardly  a  sign  of  life  when  we  had  once  got  a 
few  miles  from  Rat  Portage  and  away  from  the 
summer  villas  of  well-to-do  Winnipeg  folk  that 
dot  the  near-by  islands.     In  one  place  we  passed 


Outwards  1 1 

a  couple  of  houses  surrounded  by  farm  lands  all 
cleared  and  tilled  by  a  couple  of  Danish  families. 
We  saw  a  few  deserted  wigwams,  a  kingfisher, 
and  a  few  other  birds,  otherwise  we  might  have 
been  in  a  land  completely  lifeless.  Toward  sun- 
set we  wriggled  through  a  very  tortuous  and 
shallow  channel  into  one  of  the  great  bays — Shoal 
Bay, — and  before  long  the  camp  came  in  sight, 
and  we  made  fast  to  the  little  wharf. 

I  had  had  visions  of  sleeping  in  the  open  round 
a  camp-fire,  and  here  I  found  a  couple  of  large  sub- 
stantial log  buildings,  one  for  the  men  and  the 
other  for  my  uncle  and  his  assistants.  Here  the 
walls  were  lined  with  cartridge  paper ;  there  were  a 
stove,  civilised  beds,  chairs,  drawing-tables,  in 
fact,  luxury.  I  was,  however,  given  a  bunk,  a 
wooden  shelf,  and  it  certainly  was  the  hardest 
bed  I  have  slept  upon.  They  thought  it  would 
add  a  touch  of  local  colour  to  my  remembrances 
of  the  place.  I  could  only  stay  the  one  night,  so 
the  next  morning  we  spent  in  looking  at  the 
workings  which  were  just  begun,  and  soon  after 
a  midday  dinner  the  naval  man  and  I  started 
back  for  the  high  civilisation  of  Rat  Portage. 

I  could  have  spent  several  days  at  the  camp 
very  pleasantly  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  food, 
and  it  would  have  taken  many  days  for  me  to  get 
used  to  that.  We  took  our  meals  in  the  men's 
dining-room  when  they  had  finished.     The  tables 


12  West  and  by  East 

were  covered  with  American  cloth  and  at  each 
place  was  laid  a  tin  plate  upside  down  with  the 
knife  and  fork  neatly  crossed  on  top.  The  menu, 
largely  made  up  of  canned  things,  was  varied,  but 
the  general  greasiness  was  terrible.  The  taste 
and  feel  of  melted  butter  pervaded  everything, 
the  food,  the  plates,  the  tables,  finally  one's  per- 
son, and  melted  butter  so  universally  used  is 
palling.  To  add  to  this,  for  one  meal,  the  cook 
made  a  juicy  apple  pie  in  a  perforated  iron  dish, 
and  the  result  when  the  under-crust  was  cut 
must  have  come  up  to  his  more  ample  humorous 
expectations.  The  return  journey  was  faster  than 
the  outward  one  as  the  bearing  had  been  attended 
to,  but  it  was  late  when  we  reached  Rat  Portage 
and  a  full  moon  was  shining.  As  we  cut  through 
the  dark,  still  water  we  could  see  the  clouds  re- 
flected so  clearly  that  we  appeared  to  be  sailing 
in  the  air  miles  above  them,  and  it  seemed  neces- 
sary to  use  great  caution  in  approaching  the  side, 
lest  instead  of  falling  two  feet  into  the  water  we 
might  fall  into  space  forever. 

Next  morning,  being  Monday,  I  "  boarded  " 
the  Pacific  Express  (to  use  the  technical  phrase  of 
this  continent)  and  bade  farewell  to  the  Lake-of- 
the- Woods  and  its  gold  mines. 

My  next  resting-place  was  to  be  Banff,  nearly 
forty-eight  hours  farther  on.  We  stopped  for 
an  hour  and  a  half  at  Winnipeg  which  is  the  C. 


Outwards  13 

P.  R.  half-way  house.  It  happened  to  be  Labour 
Day  and  therefore  all  the  shops  were  shut.  There 
is  one  broad  street  with  many  stone  and  brick 
buildings,  notably  the  City  Hall  and  Post-Office, 
and  nearer  the  river  are  many  pleasant  little  villas 
and  the  Provincial  Parliament  Houses  —  a  large, 
low  white  building  rather  like  a  foreign  hotel. 

After  Winnipeg  the  scenery  changed,  and  from 
there  to  the  Rockies  there  was  nothing  but  prairie. 
The  soil  where  it  was  turned  up  shewed  black  and 
rich,  but  soon  all  signs  of  cultivation  died  away. 
At  intervals  we  stopped  at  a  little  station,  from 
which  a  double  line  of  wooden  houses  ran  away 
at  right  angles  to  the  track,  a  town  with  no  visible 
raison  d ' etre  on  the  prairie  which  encircled  it  on 
every  side.  Between  these  stations  we  saw  no 
sign  of  life  but  the  little  gophers  who  sat  up  and 
begged  till  the  train  was  almost  past  them,  and 
then  disappeared  with  a  flirt  of  their  tufted  tails. 
Sometimes  a  badger  trotted  past  with  a  pre- 
occupied expression,  or  a  gaunt  wolf  skulked 
away  from  our  intruding  presence,  while  over- 
head soared  and  wheeled  great  fish-hawks  which 
only  repeated  admonition  from  the  learned  could 
prevent  our  ignorance  from  calling  eagles.  Once 
for  many  miles  we  ran  alongside  of  the  old 
emigrant  trail,  a  broad  and  many-rutted  track. 
The  low  rolling  hills  of  the  prairie  were  crossed 
and  seamed  in  all  directions  by  little  paths  like 


14  West  and  by  East 

sheep  -  tracks  and  pitted  with  small  hollows. 
These  are  the  old  tracks  and  "  wallows  "  of  the 
buffaloes,  and  with  the  bones  and  skulls  piled  up 
at  some  of  the  stations  are  now  their  only  relics  on 
these  prairies.  Yet  another  relic  of  the  old  state 
of  things  we  saw  in  the  few  disreputable  Indians 
hanging  round  the  stations  offering  for  sale  mar- 
vellous arrangements  of  horns. 

You  felt  when  you  were  again  on  the  train  after 
alighting  at  one  of  the  wayside  stations  that  you 
had  returned  to  civilisation,  and  that  the  train 
was  your  only  link  with  contemporary  affairs  and 
your  only  assurance  that  the  world  was  not  all 
prairie.  It  was  the  same  feeling,  though  the  con- 
trast was  not  quite  so  sharp,  as  on  a  great  steamer 
when  some  stormy  night  you  leave  the  flying 
spray,  the  rushing  wind,  and  the  general  turmoil 
on  deck  and  go  down  to  the  imperturbable  hotel- 
life,  the  lights,  and  the  luxuries  below. 

We  reached  Banff  about  seven  o'clock  on  Wed- 
nesday morning,  having  climbed  during  the  night 
through  the  lower  spurs  of  the  Rockies.  Here 
there  is  an  excellent  C.  P.  R.  hotel,  set  at  the 
crossing  of  two  valleys  so  as  to  command  fine 
views  in  every  direction  of  the  hills,  to  which  a 
light  fall  of  snow  in  the  night  had  given  a  fic- 
titious grandeur.  The  region  is  covered  with 
pine  forests  and  is  laid  out  as  a  natural  park, 
and  a  couple  of  days  passed  away  there  very 


Outwards  15 

pleasantly  and  easily.  On  Friday  morning  early 
we  had  to  go  down  to  catch  the  train,  which  in- 
considerately kept  us  waiting  an  hour  in  the  frost 
before  the  sun  got  down  into  the  valley.  From 
Banff  to  the  coast  the  scenery  is  grand  beyond 
description.  First  we  crossed  the  great  divide 
and  with  most  elaborate  precaution  slid  down  the 
western  slope  of  the  Rockies.  Then  we  toiled 
at  some  twelve  miles  an  hour  up  the  Selkirks, 
the  track  keeping  at  one  stiff,  relentless  gradient 
so  that  at  starting  it  always  seemed  even  odds 
whether  the  engines  would  start  us  upward  or  the 
weight  of  the  cars,  now  the  brakes  were  released, 
would  drag  us  down.  The  slopes  of  the  hills  were 
covered  with  magnificent  conifers,  each  of  which 
at  home  would  have  been  a  much-prized  treasure, 
and  at  this  high  altitude  the  undergrowth  was 
already  showing  autumn  colouring.  The  line 
finally  reached  a  little  level  place  at  the  top  of 
the  pass  between  two  towering  snow  peaks,  Sir 
Donald  and  the  Hermit — a  pause  before  it  plunged 
down  again.  The  view  hereabouts  was  always 
liable  to  be  ruthlessly  interrupted  by  the  massive 
snow-sheds  which  cover  many  miles  of  the  track. 
The  scenery  was  as  fine  as  that  of  Switzerland 
and  of  much  the  same  character;  the  mountains 
rose  one  behind  the  other  in  splendid  masses, 
and  then  some  sudden  turn  opened  a  long  valley 
leading  straight  up  to  a  great  snow  peak  or  the 


1 6  West  and  by  East 

gleaming  glacier  of  the  Selkirks.  As  the  line 
climbed  to  cross  the  Selkirks  the  turbulent  river 
at  the  bottom  of  the  valley  grew  smaller  and 
smaller,  and  the  tributary  streams  were  spanned 
by  bridges  whose  height  grew  steadily  taller  till 
at  last  it  was  tremendous.  This  seemed  so  espe- 
cially where  the  old  wooden  trestles  had  not  been 
replaced  by  iron  girders,  and  looking  out  of  the 
car  window  you  saw  no  sign  of  a  bridge  but  only 
the  great  drop.  The  line  was  a  marvel  of  en- 
gineering; sometimes  we  could  see  it  ahead  of  us 
on  two  or  three  different  levels.  It  wound  and 
doubled,  turned  in  the  shortest  of  curves,  and 
crossed  many  high  and  creaking  wooden  trestles, 
and  finally  took  to  the  narrow  gorge  of  the  Fraser 
River.  Here  in  the  muddy  water  we  could  see 
the  red  backs  of  the  salmon  huddling  in  scores 
behind  every  rock,  and  all  the  side  streams  where 
there  was  not  enough  water  to  cover  their  fins 
were  alive  with  them. 

Finally  a  few  hours  before  we  reached  Van- 
couver we  ran  into  a  plain  country  with  broad, 
smooth-flowing  rivers,  while  as  a  background  rose 
the  white-capped  wall  of  the  Selkirks  as  the  Alps 
guard  Lombardy. 

About  one  o'clock  on  Saturday  the  train  came 
to  a  standstill  on  a  wharf  beside  which  lay  several 
ocean  steamers.  A  beautiful  harbour  surrounded 
by  hills  and  apparently  without  an  exit  lay  to 


Outwards  1 7 

our  right.  We  had  reached  Vancouver  and  the 
Pacific. 

The  C.  P.  R. ,  which  had  brought  us  so  far,  could 
not  in  point  of  splendour  or  elaborate  equipment 
challenge  competition  with  some  of  the  lines  in 
the  United  States  and  their  advertisement  trains. 
But  they  certainly  made  us  comfortable.  Their 
object  was  evidently  to  encourage  the  tourist 
traffic,  and  they  sometimes  went  rather  out  of 
their  way  to  do  so.  For  instance,  no  dining-car 
was  taken  over  the  mountains,  but  instead  meals 
were  provided  at  little  chalets  at  certain  intervals. 
These  chalets  were  prettily  built,  set  among  trim 
lawns,  gay  flower-beds,  and  fountains.  A  certain 
time  was  allowed  for  the  meal,  but  if  any  passen- 
ger was  dilatory  the  train  would  wait  for  him. 
The  schedule  pace  was  so  slow  as  to  allow  of  such 
liberties.  The  mountain  hotels,  too,  were  very 
good,  in  spite  of  the  great  distances  from  which 
all  stores  had  to  be  transported.  Then  the  C.  P. 
R.  time-table  was  excellent,  giving,  besides  the 
dry  bones  of  starting  and  arrival  times,  a  concise 
description  of  the  country  traversed,  the  whole 
making  a  respectable  pamphlet. 

Here  at  Vancouver  was  another  C.  P.  R.  hotel, 
also  good.  The  town  is  interesting  for  its  queer 
contrasts.  In  some  ways  it  seems  quite  English, 
especially  because  of  the  fences  round  the  well- 
cared-for   gardens.     But  then  the  mild  climate 


1 8  West  and  by  East 

allows  many  things  to  grow  not  seen  at  home. 
The  streets  have  the  look  of  any  new  town  of 
rapid  growth  in  Canada  or  the  United  States, 
while  the  many  Chinamen  remind  you  that  you 
are  on  the  Pacific  slope.  Victoria,  the  elderly 
and  stately  rival  of  Vancouver,  is  said  to  be  more 
English  than  England.  Certainly  Vancouver  is 
more  English  than  many  Canadian  towns  farther 
east. 

I  was  taken  to  Stanley  Park,  the  public  park  of 
the  town,  lying  on  a  promontory  in  the  harbour. 
Here  the  original  forest  has  as  far  as  possible  been 
left  undisturbed.  There  are  a  few  carriage  roads 
and  some  paths  cut  through  the  undergrowth  be- 
tween the  enormous  Douglas  firs  which  are  the 
pride  of  the  town.  I  called  at  various  houses  and 
was  initiated  into  the  virtues  and  vices  of  the 
Chinese  "  boy  "  or  servant.  I  went  to  the  Club 
and  saw  the  Empress  of  China,  in  which  I  was  to 
sail,  lying  apparently  at  the  foot  of  the  lawn.  I 
could  hear  all  over  the  town  the  hours  struck  on 
her  bell,  and  had  no  chance  to  forget  her  presence 
and  the  fact  that  she  sailed  on  Monday  morning. 


M' 


CHAPTER   II 

THE   PACIFIC 

ONDAY  morning,  therefore,  the  13th  of 
September,  found  me  and  my  traps  on 
board  the  Empress  ready  to  go  still  farther 
westwards,  forty-two  hundred  miles,  to  the  fas- 
cinating islands  of  Japan. 

The  Empress  of  China,  like  her  sister  Empresses, 
has  the  lines  of  a  yacht,  two  funnels  and  four 
masts,  a  white  hull  with  yellow  upper  works,  twin 
screws,  and  a  nominal  speed  of  nineteen  knots. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Empresses  usually  go  only 
some  fourteen  and  a  half  or  fifteen  knots,  and 
even  so  cross  the  Pacific  in  a  couple  of  days  less 
than  any  other  line.  This  method  allows  them 
to  run  up  to  time  with  the  certainty  of  a  railway 
train.  The  officers  and  all  the  deck-hands  of  the 
Empress  of  China  are  R.  N.  R.  men  and  English, 
the  stewards  and  firemen  Chinese.  The  saloon 
is  on  the  upper  deck,  and  so  far  forward  that  it  is 
rather  given  to  dancing,  a  tendency  still  more 
marked  in  the  library,  which  is  immediately  above 
it.     Most  of  the  cabins  are  on  the  main  deck 

19 


20  West  and  by  East 

below  the  saloon,  but  there  is  also  a  row  on  either 
side  on  the  saloon  deck  opening  into  alleyways 
covered  in  forward  and  at  the  side  but  open  aft. 
On  the  starboard  side  these  cabins  are  occupied 
by  officers,  on  the  port  side  by  the  single  men 
among  the  passengers.  I  was  in  one  of  the  latter. 
In  hot  weather  they  would  probably  be  cool,  as 
in  cool  weather  they  are  distinctly  cold,  and  my 
cabin  companion  was  an  enthusiast  for  fresh  air. 
In  wet  and  dirty  weather,  too,  any  chance  water 
there  might  be  on  the  promenade  or  boat  decks 
found  its  way  into  the  scuppers  of  our  alleyway, 
to  form  a  brawling  brook  whose  music  did  not 
bring  sleep.  However,  she  is  a  fine  boat,  with  a 
pleasant  spaciousness  in  her  passages  and  state- 
rooms. 

The  weather  was  splendid  when  we  went  aboard 
and  the  hill -locked  harbour  looked  beautiful. 
The  deck  was  alive  with  children,  principally  be- 
longing to  missionaries.  At  one  gang-plank  an 
officer  superintended  the  arrival  of  the  cabin 
passengers  and  their  baggage;  at  another,  the 
Chinese  steerage,  of  whom  we  had  some  four 
hundred,  were  hustled  on  board  with  the  cere- 
mony and  commotion  customary  in  embarking 
pigs. 

About  two  o'clock  we  cast  loose,  and  with  a 
leadsman  in  the  chains  on  either  side  felt  our 
way  down  to  Victoria  between  many  beautiful 


The  Pacific  21 

headlands  into  the  heart  of  a  gorgeous  sunset. 
At  Victoria  some  further  passengers  joined  us, 
and  by  eight  o'clock  we  were  fairly  started  on 
the  voyage. 

One  sea  voyage  in  northern  latitudes  is  very 
much  like  another,  and  in  spite  of  names  one 
ocean  is  very  much  like  another.  The  Northern 
Pacific  seemed  just  as  cold  and  grey  and  stormy 
as  the  North  Atlantic.  Experts  indeed  declare 
that  though  the  seas  in  the  Pacific  are  larger  they 
yet  run  more  true,  so  there  does  not  seem  much 
to  choose.  The  chief  impression  the  Pacific  gives 
is  one  of  loneliness ;  in  all  the  thirteen  days  of  our 
voyage  we  saw  only  one  ship — a  sealing  schooner. 
If  the  weather  had  been  more  propitious  we  should 
have  run  far  enough  north  to  sight  the  Aleutian 
Islands,  but  as  it  was  we  gave  them  a  forty-mile 
berth.  Some  small  albatross — called  commonly 
Toots — followed  us  all  the  way;  a  few  flying-fish 
were  seen  the  day  before  we  reached  Japan,  and 
that  is  about  the  list  of  the  sights. 

Considering  that  we  had  chosen  to  cross  just  at 
the  time  of  the  equinox,  our  weather  was  very 
fair.  Some  days  were  beautiful,  but  as  it  was  the 
north  wind  which  brought  the  clear  weather  the 
fine  days  were  also  the  cold  days.  There  was  a 
small  blow  three  days  out  which  made  the  ship 
do  a  good  deal  of  "cinder-shifting"  or  cork- 
screw motion.     As  we  were  going  westward  our 


22  West  and  by  East 

days  were  of  twenty-four  and  a  half  hours  each, 
and  then  on  crossing  longitude  1800  we  had  to 
omit  one  entire  day.  We  leapt  from  Sunday 
night,  the  19th  of  September,  to  Tuesday,  the 
2 1st,  from  moderate  weather  into  what  the  chief- 
engineer  in  a  very  unguarded  moment  called  a 
gale  of  wind — so  be  sure  it  was.  Some  wag  said, 
"  Yesterday  was  worse  than  this,  so  they  left  it 
out."  It  was  a  magnificent  sight  to  see  the  great 
seas  go  swinging  past  under  the  blue  sky  and 
bright  sun,  the  wind  cutting  their  crests  off  and 
whisking  them  away  in  hissing  spray.  But  even 
such  grand  sights  pall  when  there  is  no  means  of 
getting  away  from  them.  The  constant  plunging 
of  the  ship,  the  incessant  wear  and  strain  and 
creak,  the  perfect  impossibility  of  finding  a  quiet 
corner  anywhere  grew  wearisome  in  time,  and  we 
were  all  glad  when  the  weather  moderated  in  the 
evening;  all,  that  is,  except  a  few  enthusiasts 
whom  we  eyed  with  suspicion  and  pity. 

The  month  of  September  is  the  month  when 
typhoons  are  most  to  be  feared  on  the  coast  of 
Japan.  Personally  I  am  quite  willing  to  take  my 
experiences  of  them  at  second  hand,  judging  of 
their  terrors  from  the  respectful  way  in  which 
naval  men  and  seafaring  men  generally  on  the 
Pacific  coast  speak  of  them,  especially  those  who 
happen  ever  to  have  met  with  one.  All  the  voy- 
age we  felt  that  a  typhoon  just  one  or  two  days 


The  Pacific  23 

from  Yokohama  might  be  reserved  for  us  as  a 
finale.  Happily  we  did  not  actually  encounter 
one,  but  we  only  just  missed  it.  Three  days  be- 
fore the  end  of  the  voyage  we  waked  to  find  the 
horizon  clouded  with  mist  and  the  whole  ship 
clammy  with  moisture.  The  air  was  warm  and 
enervating,  and  though  there  was  hardly  any 
wind  a  big  sea  was  running  from  the  S.W., 
making  the  ship  roll  and  pitch  at  the  same  time. 
About  noon  we  ran  into  a  fog-bank,  and  for 
form's  sake  blew  our  whistle  a  couple  of  times, 
though  there  was  not  much  fear  of  meeting  any- 
thing on  that  desolate  ocean.  This  brought  us 
out  from  the  smoking-room  to  see  what  was  the 
matter  and  to  witness  a  sudden  transformation 
scene.  The  smoke,  which  had  been  hanging  over 
the  starboard  quarter,  veered  suddenly  to  the  port 
quarter  and  we  ran  into  bright  sun  and  blue  sea, 
already  beginning  to  whiten  under  a  stiff  N.  E. 
breeze.  The  fog-bank  lay  like  a  dark  curtain 
behind  us.  The  meaning  of  all  this  was  that  we 
had  come  near  a  typhoon.  Happily  the  captain 
had  noticed  its  approach  in  time,  and  by  altering 
our  course  a  little  in  the  night  had  let  the  centre 
pass,  so  that  we  came  in  for  the  extreme  fringe 
only.  That  night  it  was  blowing  a  gale  from  the 
N.E.  This  was  the  night  fixed  for  the  concert, 
for  which  a  lengthy  programme  had  been  pre- 
pared.    The  weather,  however,  put  a  great  many 


24  West  and  by  East 

of  the  intending  performers  hors-de -combat  and 
sadly  thinned  the  ranks  of  the  audience.  In  spite 
of  this  it  was  a  very  enjoyable  function,  and 
rather  above  the  average  of  such  concerts.  There 
were  two  instrumental  trios,  one  for  strings  by 
the  second  steward  and  two  sailors,  one  for  two 
flutes  and  a  mandolin  by  two  passengers  and  the 
purser.  The  doctor,  who  was  principally  respon- 
sible for  the  getting  up  of  the  concert,  sang  an 
excellent  comic  song  in  costume.  The  antics  of 
the  ship  made  it  very  difficult  for  the  singers  both 
to  sing  and  to  keep  their  balance  and  to  find 
breath  for  both  these  things  at  the  same  time. 
In  the  middle  of  the  concert  there  was  a  present- 
ation of  prizesgained  in  the  deck  sports  and  in  vari- 
ous tournaments  at  whist,  chess,  and  other  games. 
These  sports  had  been  the  principal  event  of 
the  voyage  and  had  served  to  kill  a  great  deal  of 
time.  I  happened  to  be  one  of  the  committee 
of  management.  The  other  members  were  a  mis- 
sionary, who  hardly  ever  turned  up  at  the  meet- 
ings, being  generally  hors-de-combat ;  a  gentleman 
from  Montreal,  of  whom  I  shall  have  much  to 
say,  and  whom,  on  the  analogy  of  the  Scotch 
fashion,  I  propose  to  call  Mr.  Montreal;  a  young 
M.P.,  whose  name  is  known  everywhere  in  con- 
nection with  a  necessary  laundry  article,  and 
whom  we  elected  chairman;  the  ship's  doctor; 
and  the  third  officer,  a  man  of  great  experience 


The  Pacific  25 

in  such  matters.  The  meetings  of  the  committee 
were  numerous  and  very  welcome  as  fiiiing  up 
several  days  of  dreary  weather.  We  flattered 
ourselves  that  we  managed  the  sports  very  well, 
and  certainly  they  went  without  a  hitch.  The 
actual  sports  occupied  two  afternoons.  The 
events  were  rather  such  as  to  amuse  the  audience 
than  to  test  the  athletic  power  of  the  competitors. 
This  could  not  be  said,  however,  of  the  obstacle 
race,  for  which  the  chief  officer  set  a  distinctly 
stiff  course  involving  a  good  deal  of  rope-climbing. 
Beside  the  ordinary  potato  race,  three-legged  race, 
cock-fighting,  and  tug-of-war,  there  were  some  less 
common  events.  In  one  of  these  each  man  had 
to  uncork  and  drink  a  bottle  of  aerated  ivater,  pick 
up  a  cigarette,  and  run  down  the  deck  to  a  lady 
who  had  to  light  it.  The  man  first  back  with  his 
cigarette  alight  was  victor,  sharing  the  prize  with 
his  lady  lighter.  Another  amusing  race  was  the 
post-office  race,  in  which  a  number  of  men  were 
placed  at  one  end  of  the  deck  and  at  the  other  end 
a  like  number  of  parcels.  Each  parcel  contained 
some  garment,  and  each  man  must  run  to  a  parcel, 
open  it,  and  run  round  the  deckhouse,  arriving 
with  the  garment  on  and  properly  fastened.  In 
the  final  heat  we  put  a  complete  costume  in  each 
parcel.  Perhaps  the  best  result  was  afforded  by 
the  man  who  ran  second  in  the  final,  a  solemn 
little  man  with  black  beard  and  gold  spectacles. 


26  West  and  by  East 

He  came  in  in  an  old  opera  hat  and  dress  coat, 
holding  up  the  skirts  of  a  petticoat  —  a  sight  for 
gods  and  men.  The  prizes  were  rather  a  puzzle 
to  us,  because  people  going  to  Japan  do  not 
have  all  manner  of  the  little  trinkets  which  the 
home-going  tourist  carries,  and  which  could  have 
been  requisitioned.  Finally  we  had  to  present  the 
successful  competitors  with  money.  Owing  to 
the  exceptional  circumstances  we  thought  they 
would  not  thus  lose  their  amateur  status,  and  the 
understanding  was  strict  that  such  money  should 
be  invested  in  a  souvenir  instantly  on  arrival  in 
Japan.  But  for  some  of  the  events  the  doctor  had 
contrived  humorous  and  appropriate  rewards, 
and  these  were  presented  at  the  concert  amid 
great  applause.  I  might  add  that  the  committee 
celebrated  the  conclusion  of  its  labours  by  a  din- 
ner given  by  the  M.P.  in  the  doctor's  cabin. 
When  the  whole  committee  was  at  dinner  the 
cabin  was  so  full  that  the  Chinese  boys  in  waiting 
had  to  stand  in  the  alleyway  and  hand  the  dishes 
through  the  door  and  windows.  Except  for  the 
great  diversion  of  the  sports  and  the  various 
tournaments  in  chess,  etc.,  the  voyage  was  not 
very  lively.  This  was  partly  owing  to  the  weather, 
which  was  dull,  and  made  the  smoking-room  the 
best  place  in  the  ship,  where  were  revealed  to  me 
the  possibilities  of  the  despised  game  of  dominoes. 
It  was  also  partly  due  to  the  fact  that  out  of  120 


The  Pacific  27 

passengers  forty  or  more  were  missionaries  and 
their  children,  who  rather  kept  themselves  to 
themselves,  so  that  the  whole  company  did  not 
properly  coalesce.  Among  the  other  passengers 
were  a  number  of  European  residents  in  Japan  and 
Shanghai  returning  to  work  after  visits  home,  sev- 
eral men  of  business  who  had  travelled  the  world 
over  more  than  once  and  had  strange  tales  to  tell 
— one  was  from  Boston  on  his  way  to  see  about 
some  paper  mills  in  Japan,  fat  and  jolly,  with  a 
wonderful  ring  on  his  little  finger.  There  were, 
too,  a  good  many  globe-trotters  like  myself.  My 
cabin  companion  was  an  eccentric  person.  He 
had  taken  his  degree  at  Cambridge  and  then  been 
called  to  the  Bar,  but,  I  was  told,  had  never  prac- 
tised owing  to  conscientious  scruples.  Though 
probably  under  thirty  he  had  let  his  hair  and  beard 
grow  wild  so  as  to  almost  hide  a  face  of  consider- 
able charm.  His  clothes,  too,  were  frayed  and 
fringed  in  a  picturesque  way  which  made  all  the 
ladies  anxious  to  get  at  him  with  a  darning-needle. 
Though  very  kind-hearted  and  well-meaning  his 
conversation  was  almost  nil,  and  his  habits  ec- 
centric and  slovenly.  But  as  he  was  always  in  bed 
before  eleven  and  up  at  six  it  was  not  necessary  to 
see  much  of  him.  He  had  been  living  at  Victoria, 
and  was  there  picked  up  by  a  lady  going  to  join 
her  husband  in  Japan,  as  tutor  for  her  two  boys. 
They  were  very  sturdy-looking   young   rascals, 


28  West  and  by  East 

about  the  last  sort  of  pupils  for  such  a  tutor,  as  I 
think  all  parties  soon  found  out. 

The  only  other  events  of  note  were  the  fire- 
and  boat-drills  and  the  inspection  of  the  crew- 
after  morning  service  on  Sunday.  On  one  side 
of  the  deck  stood  the  European  sailors  in  R.  N. 
R.  uniform,  and  the  Chinese  firemen  with  pig- 
tails twisted  round  their  heads,  loose  black  jackets 
and  trousers,  and  immaculate  white  socks  and  low 
shoes.  On  the  other  side  was  a  row  of  stewards 
with  pigtails  hanging  free,  caps  with  coloured  top- 
knots,frogged  jackets,and  trousers  tied  tight  at  the 
ankle,  and  again  the  immaculate  white  socks  and 
low  shoes.  The  long  lines  of  spotless  white  socks 
had  a  very  curious  effect.  The  captain  then  led 
a  glittering  line  of  officers  round  to  inspect  the 
crew,  while  the  long  lines  swayed  to  and  fro  as 
one  man  to  the  roll  of  the  ship — for  it  always 
rolled  on  these  occasions. 

On  the  evening  of  Sunday  the  26th  we  picked 
up  a  light  on  the  Japanese  coast  —  one  of  the 
most  pleasant  sights  one  can  see.  During  the 
night  I  woke  to  find  the  ship  stopped,  the  wind 
rising,  and  the  rain  coming  down  in  torrents, 
filling  the  ship  with  noise.  It  was  very  hot  and 
sleep  for  a  long  time  impossible.  I  heard  after- 
wards— I  do  not  know  how  true  it  was — that  we 
had  stopped  because  the  rain  was  so  blinding  that 
we  could  not  make  the  harbour. 


The  Pacific  29 

Next  morning  about  eight  I  came  on  deck  to 
find  a  dull,  misty  morning,  and  the  Empress  pass- 
ing the  breakwater  on  her  way  to  her  anchorage 
in  Yokohama  harbour. 


CHAPTER  III 

YOKOHAMA 

YOKOHAMA  lies  about  an  hour's  steaming 
up  the  Bay  of  Tokio.  Where  we  lay  low 
hills  surrounded  us  in  a  fine  sweep,  but  the  larger 
hills  behind  were  hidden  by  mist.  The  first  view 
of  Japan  was  not  a  very  cheerful  one,  for  the 
weather  was  threatening  rain,  which  later  in 
the  day  fell  copiously.  Off  on  the  port  side  lay  the 
town  of  low,  tile-roofed  buildings,  with  the  trees 
and  European  houses  on  the  bluff  down  the  bay, 
and  masses  of  shipping  higher  up.  Almost  op- 
posite us  when  I  first  came  on  deck  the  long 
breakwater  which  protects  the  anchorage  on  the 
south  and  east  ran  out.  The  port  was  full  of  ships, 
including  several  men-of-war  of  different  nations, 
a  French  mail  boat  looking  herself  very  like  a  man- 
of-war,  a  P.  &  O.  boat,  and  many  steamers  flying 
the  Japanese  flag.  There  were  also  several  fine 
sailing  ships,  some  of  which  had  brought  out  oil 
from  America,  and  innumerable  Japanese  sailing 
craft.  All  around  us  as  we  moved  slowly  up  the 
harbour  the  water  was  alive  with  steam  launches 

30 


Yokohama  3 1 

and  sampans.  These  latter  are  the  ordinary 
small  boats  of  the  country.  They  seem  to  be  flat- 
bottomed  and  in  shape  a  long  isosceles  triangle, 
the  stern  forming  a  narrow  base.  They  look  as 
though  the  bows  of  a  much  larger  boat  had  by 
some  sort  of  fissiparous  process  broken  off  and 
started  in  life  independently.  Sometimes  they 
are  sailed  with  one  lateen  sail,  but  more  often 
propelled  with  one  or  two  long  sweeps.  These 
sweeps  are  made  of  pieces  of  wood  spliced  to- 
gether and  look  as  though  compounded  of  several 
short  oars.  They  work  in  loops,  and  to  prevent 
the  inboard  end  swinging  too  far  it  is  fastened  by 
a  cord-and-block  arrangement  similar  to  that  on  a 
horse's  manger.  One  man  works  each  oar  stand- 
ing up  facing  the  bow.  The  oar  is  never  taken 
out  of  the  water,  but  twisted  from  side  to  side  as 
in  sculling  from  the  stern  of  a  boat. 

As  soon  as  we  came  to  an  anchor  all  these  float- 
ing atoms  came  rushing  to  our  sides,  and  soon 
the  deck  was  alive  with  officials,  friends,  and 
bowing  coolies. 

The  Grand  Hotel,  to  which  most  of  us  were 
going,  had  sent  its  launch  to  meet  the  steamer, 
and  its  porter,  an  American.  To  him  we  gave 
our  keys  and  a  description  of  our  respective  lug- 
gage, which  turned  up  at  the  hotel  a  couple  of 
hours  later,  having,  nominally  at  least,  been 
through  the  Customs-House.     I  was  landed   in 


32  West  and  by  East 

another  launch  belonging  to  a  steamer  friend 
who  was  in  business  in  Yokohama. 

And  was  this  really  Japan  which  I  had  come 
ten  thousand  miles  to  see  ?  This  sad-looking 
country  with  wharves  and  steamers,  European 
buildings,  and  rain  lying  in  puddles  on  a  well- 
made  road  ?  But  then  appeared  an  exaggerated 
go-cart  drawn  by  a  coolie  in  mushroom-shaped 
hat,  bare  legs,  and  a  mackintosh  cape.  Into  this 
rickshaw  I  climbed,  and  we  splashed  off  down  the 
bund  to  the  hotel.  The  bund  runs  for  about  a 
mile  along  the  edge  of  the  harbour.  On  one  side 
are  large  houses,  most  of  them  nowadays  offices, 
though  in  one  case  at  least  the  old  fashion  is  still 
adhered  to  of  manager's  house,  office,  and  godown 
all  under  the  same  roof.  Several  of  them  have 
large  gardens  in  which  they  lie  almost  hidden. 
Here,  too,  are  the  principal  hotel  and  the  Club. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  road  are  a  row  of  pines 
and  a  low  retaining  wall,  and  then  the  sea. 
Somehow  at  first  it  did  not  seem  so  strange  to 
be  in  Japan,  but  rather  as  though  I  had  ridden 
in  a  rickshaw  all  my  life,  watching  the  bobbing 
head  before  me  and  hearing  the  thud-thud  of  the 
sandalled  feet.  But  these  small  pine  trees  with 
their  fantastic  curves  and  scanty  branches  brought 
the  truth  home  to  me.  They  were  the  pine  trees 
of  a  Japanese  fan,  only  actually  growing. 

At  the  extreme  end  of  the  bund  lies  the  Grand 


Yokohama  33 

Hotel,  a  large  building  of  three  stones,  the  newer 
part  of  stone,  the  older  of  brick,  with  deep  ver- 
andas. It  forms  three  sides  of  a  square  with  the 
open  side  facing  inland,  and  the  courtyard  thus 
formed  is  alive  all  day  with  rickshaws  coming 
and  going  and  at  night  with  their  flitting  lanterns. 
The  rooms  and  passages  are  large,  so  that  the 
hotel  does  not  accommodate  as  many  people  as  its 
exterior  would  seem  to  promise.  The  two  main 
rooms  are  the  dining-room  and  the  billiard-room. 
The  latter  contains  half  a  dozen  tables,  and  down 
one  end  runs  a  glittering  bar,  well  patronised  all 
day  by  people  staying  in  the  hotel  and  those  from 
outside.  The  cooking  is  excellent,  except  the 
breakfasts, — which  seem  a  weak  point  in  Japan 
generally, — but  most  excellent  is  the  curry.  At  all 
the  hotels  where  I  stayed  in  Japan  which  were  run 
on  European  or  semi-European  lines  the  cooking 
was  good,  certainly  much  better  than  one  had  any 
right  to  expect,  but  almost  everywhere  the  break- 
fast varied  only  from  fish  and  steak  to  fish  and 
chop,  to  fish  and  sausage,  and  back  again  to  steak. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  tiffins  were  always  very 
good.  To  return  from  a  gastronomic  digression 
to  the  Grand  Hotel,  the  manager  is  a  Swiss —  and 
is  always  in  great  form  at  meal-times,  circulating 
from  table  to  table,  cracking  little  jokes  with  the 
ladies,  asking  if  the  dinner  is  satisfactory,  and  in 
case  of  complaint  sharply  rebuking  the  nearest 


34  West  and  by  East 

waiter.  The  waiters  wear  white  jackets,  tight 
blue  trousers,  and  sandals,  and  are  very  nimble, 
intelligent,  and  quiet. 

Though  "Grand  Hotel  charges  "  are  considered 
high  in  Yokohama,  to  the  inexperienced  person 
they  seem  cheap,  five  yen — or,  at  the  present  ex- 
change, about  ten  shillings — a  day  for  full  board, 
and  that  very  good.  The  hotel  is  run  by  a  com- 
pany, and  I  believe  pays  a  princely  dividend. 

I  have  mentioned  the  manager,  called  "Louis" 
by  his  intimates.  He  is  small,  of  comfortable 
figure,  always  trimly  dressed,  and  always,  even 
when  he  appears  at  dinner-time  in  evening  dress, 
with  a  skull-cap  on  his  head.  His  whole  souHs 
in  the  hotel,  with  the  result  that  the  management 
is  excellent.  I  might  tell  one  incident  here  to 
illustrate  this,  although  it  is  quite  out  of  place  as 
regards  time.  My  brother  had  stayed  at  the 
Grand  Hotel  some  time  before — I  thought  it  was 
eighteen  months  before,  on  further  reflection  I 
found  it  to  be  twenty-seven — and  on  his  depart- 
ure had  left  behind  a  large  Cingalese  brass  tray. 
When  I  was  about  to  leave  home  he  asked  me,  if 
I  was  at  the  Grand  Hotel,  Yokohama,  to  inquire 
for  the  tray.  He  did  not  give  me  a  very  accurate 
idea  of  the  tray  nor  of  the  box  containing  it.  I 
thought  it  a  hopeless  inquiry  to  make,  and  so  did 
not  say  anything  on  the  subject  till  almost  my 
last  day  in  Japan.     "  Louis  "  at  once  replied  that 


Yokohama  35 

if  it  had  been  left  at  the  hotel  it  must  still  be 
there.  He  accordingly  sent  a  boy  to  the  baggage- 
room,  who  returned  with  a  large  flat  box.  It 
was  not  quite  the  sort  of  box  I  had  been  led  to 
expect,  but  on  both  sides  was  my  brother's  name, 
evidently  in  his  handwriting.  l*  Louis  "  was  sat- 
isfied of  my  honesty,  and  did  not  even  ask  me 
to  open  the  box,  which  I  sent  to  be  forwarded 
home  with  my  own  things,  and  on  arrival  at  home 
it  was  found  to  contain  the  much-travelled  and 
patiently  waiting  brass  tray. 

On  my  first  arrival  I  was  deposited  at  the  door 
of  the  hotel  opening  on  the  bund.  Getting  out 
of  a  rickshaw  is  easier  than  getting  in.  The 
coolie  simply  lets  down  the  shafts  till  they  rest 
on  the  ground,  giving  the  seat  a  very  decided 
tilt  forward,  so  that  it  is  only  with  considerable 
difficulty  that  one  can  avoid  getting  out.  I  was 
given  a  large  room  facing  the  sea,  in  a  gable,  with 
windows  on  three  sides,  and  two  small  beds. 
One  window  opened  on  to  a  small  balcony,  and 
afforded  a  fine  view  of  the  dreary,  misty  harbour 
and  its  shipping,  with  great  hawks  wheeling 
ceaselessly  overhead.  The  other  windows  com- 
manded fine  views  of  the  hotel  roof. 

My  first  visitor  arrived  very  soon  in  the  shape 
of  a  Chinese  tailor,  and  when  the  first  had  gone 
there  came  a  second  and  a  third.  Each  time  I 
came    back    to    Yokohama    the    ceremony    was 


36  West  and  by  East 

repeated.  Each  tailor  carried  a  large  bundle  of 
samples  of  cloth.  Each  would  commence  by  tell- 
ing me  his  name, —  Chang  Chow,  Ah  Sing,  etc., 
as  the  case  might  be, — and  proceed  to  offer  me  a 
suit  very  cheap,  and,  if  this  was  denied,  at  least 
beg  a  suit  "  for  pleasure."  This  was  what  it 
sounded  like  to  me  from  one  man's  lips,  and 
puzzled  me  a  good  deal,  till  I  realised  that 
all  he  wanted  was  the  favour  of  cleaning  and 
pressing  the  clothes  I  had  worn  on  shipboard. 
If  everything  else  failed  at  least  you  must  take 
his  card,  on  which  were  displayed  in  more  or  less 
correct  English  his  qualifications  as  tailor  or  dress- 
maker. This  giving  of  cards  is  universal  in  Japan. 
Every  shopkeeper  whose  store  the  tourist  enters, 
every  curio  dealer  who  spreads  his  wares  on  the 
verandas  or  in  the  sitting-rooms  of  a  hotel,  has  a 
pack  of  cards,  one  of  which  he  thrusts  on  his 
actual  or  potential  customer.  And  in  the  larger 
shops,  in  case  of  a  deal  taking  place,  this  ceremony 
is  invariably  followed  by  another — the  signature 
of  a  book;  I  suppose  for  the  encouragement  of 
future  victims. 

My  luggage  turned  up  soon  after  I  had  got  rid 
of  the  Chinese  tailors,  and  then  with  Mr.  Mon- 
treal I  went  to  the  British  Consulate.  There  we 
produced  our  passports  and  applied  for  Japanese 
ones.  Without  a  passport  a  traveller  cannot 
leave  the  treaty  ports  to  spend  a  night  outside 


Yokohama  37 

their  limits,  nor  [buy  a  railway  ticket  for  any 
length  of  journey,  nor  stay  at  a  hotel  outside  a 
treaty  town.  Formerly  it  was  necessary  to  define 
the  proposed  route  and  length  of  stay  when  ask- 
ing for  a  passport ;  now  they  are  issued  generally 
for  the  whole  island  for  six  months.  Our  appli- 
cations were  forwarded  to  Tokio,  and  next  day 
the  passports  arrived,  and  we  were  made  free  of 
the  island.1 

Then  back  to  tiffin,  which  tasted  specially  good 
after  thirteen  days  of  ship's  cooking,  and  after 
tiffin  to  the  telegraph  office  to  send  a  cable  home 
to  announce  my  arrival.  It  is  perhaps  interesting 
to  mention  that  the  directions  on  the  telegraph 
forms  are  printed  in  two  languages  —  Japanese 
and  English. 

The  streets  of  the  settlement  are  not  particu- 
larly interesting,  because  they  are  smooth  and 
broad  and  lined  with  buildings  partly  or  wholly 
European  in  style.  Most  of  the  buildings  are 
only  two  stories  high,  because  of  the  frequent 
earthquakes.  In  many  of  the  shops  all  manner 
of  European  wares  are  to  be  got,  though,  of 
course,  there  is  a  substantial  addition  to  the  price 
to  pay  for  the  carriage.  There  are  several  large 
curio  shops,  but  they  seem  to  cater  too  much  for 
the  European  market,  with  the  result  that  most 

1  Passports  are  now,  I  believe,  unnecessary  (1900). — L.  E.  S. 


38  West  and  by  East 

of  their  goods  are  not  very  beautiful  nor  the  best 
specimens  of  Japanese  art.  A  number  of  small 
offices  in  the  main  street  are  occupied  by  money- 
changers, invariably  Chinese.  The  Chinese  in- 
deed are  a  good  deal  in  evidence  in  Yokohama, 
and  though  in  the  war  masses  of  Japanese  beat 
masses  of  Chinese,  yet  the  individual  Chinaman 
seems  a  good  match  for  the  individual  Japanese. 
At  least  this  struck  us  when  we  saw  some  fat  and 
prosperous  Chinaman  dragged  in  a  rickshaw  by  a 
little  perspiring  coolie.  In  the  banks,  too,  the 
tellers  are  Chinamen.  This  is  probably  partly 
due  to  the  superior  commercial  honesty  which  in 
the  Far  East  the  Chinaman  is  as  a  rule  acknow- 
ledged to  possess  as  compared  with  the  Japanese. 
These  tellers  do  their  reckoning  with,  beads  on 
wires  in  the  primitive  way,  but  are  wonderfully 
expert,  rattling  the  beads  up  and  down  at  a  pro- 
digious pace. 

During  this  slight  digression  I  had  got  back  to 
the  hotel  and  joined  a  party  to  go  up  the  Bluff,  the 
hill  on  which  most  of  the  Europeans  live.  The 
pull  up  is  steep,  and  we  had  to  have  two  men  to 
each  rickshaw.  They  made  the  most  of  their 
exertions,  grunting  and  groaning  in  chorus,  so 
that  we,  quite  new  to  this  mode  of  travel,  felt 
very  sorry  for  them.  On  the  Bluff  are  many 
pleasant,  wide-spreading  houses  hidden  in  large 
gardens,    fine,   well-kept  roads,   and   the  public 


Yokohama  39 

Bluff  gardens,  prettily  laid  out  and  containing 
many  beautiful  conifers. 

On  our  way  down  by  a  different  road  from  that 
by  which  we  had  climbed  up  we  passed  a  temple 
where  a  funeral  service  was  in  progress.  We 
went  in  to  see  what  we  could,  but  I  do  not  recol- 
lect much  about  it  except  that  there  were  two 
priests  in  gorgeous  robes,  chanting  sadly,  and 
that  both  by  their  vestments  and  their  singing 
they  strongly  reminded  me  of  some  Roman 
Catholic  ceremony.  We  passed  through  the 
native  quarter  on  our  way  back.  It  is  quite 
modern,  as  before  1854  Yokohama  was  an  in- 
significant fishing  village,  and  though  it  interested 
us  greatly  because  of  its  novelty,  it  is  not  a  very 
good  specimen  of  a  Japanese  town. 

Before  dinner  we  went  off  to  the  Empress,  which 
was  still  lying  in  the  harbour,  to  say  good-bye  to 
those  friends  who  were  still  on  board.  But  our 
touch  of  dry  land  had  completely  destroyed  any 
lingering  desire  we  might  have  had  to  voyage 
farther  for  the  present,  and  I  for  one  was  very 
glad  to  let  the  Empress  slip  away  after  nightfall 
without  me. 

Perhaps  I  have  lingered  too  long  over  the  first 
day  in  Japan,  but  of  the  first  day  there  must  al- 
ways be  so  much  to  tell.  If  many  of  the  details 
seem  trivial  it  is  because  the  main  facts  can  always 
be  got  up  at  home  from  books,  but  one  only 


40  West  and  by  East 

learns  the  details  by  actually  going  to  the  country, 
and  therefore  they  are  novel  and  interesting;  and 
so  this  account  will  be  largely  a  chronicle  of  such 
small  beer  of  my  own  brew,  and  in  no  sense  an 
account  of  Japan  in  general. 


CHAPTER   IV 

A  JAPANESE   STREET 

NO  description,  however  minute,  can  ever  give 
an  adequate  idea  of  the  streets  of  a  foreign 
city  to  those  who  have  never  trod  them.  To  do 
so  would  require  a  series  of  photographs,  supple- 
mented by  a  phonograph  and  by  some  delicate 
instrument,  not  yet  invented,  to  reproduce  the 
smells  of  the  place.  For  the  smell  is  what  gives 
the  character  to  the  place,  and  a  faint  whiff  of 
some  resembling  odour  can  at  once  transport  the 
possessor  of  a  well-travelled  nose  to  scenes  thou- 
sands of  miles  distant. 

The  average  Japanese  street  is  long,  straight, 
and  narrow,  lined  by  houses  of  wood  or  stucco, 
which  rise  abruptly  two  or  three  stories  from  the 
earthen  roadway.  In  Tokio,  modern  civilisation 
has  thrust  back  the  houses  in  the  main  thorough- 
fares so  far  as  to  leave  a  broad,  uninteresting 
street  studded  with  telegraph  poles  and  scored 
with  tram  lines. 

The  lower  stories  of  the  houses  are  open,  with 
little  eaves  of  ridge-and-furrow  tiles  projecting 

41 


42  West  and  by  East 

over  the  opening  to  divert  any  drops  which  the 
upper  eaves  let  fall.  The  floors  within  are  raised 
some  eighteen  inches  from  the  ground.  They 
extend  far  backwards,  expanses  of  speckless  mat- 
ting, criss-crossed  by  the  shining  beams  in  which 
the  sliding  partitions  run,  but  unincumbered  with 
furniture.  A  few  flat  cushions  and  a  vase  of 
flowers  are  usually  all  the  plenishings  to  be  seen 
in  addition  to  the  ever-present  brazier.  This  last 
is  of  metal  or  wood.  It  is  filled  with  ashes,  in 
the  midst  of  which  a  few  live  charcoals  smoulder. 
It  serves  as  a  kitchen  range,  a  light-bearer  for 
pipes,  and  a  nucleus  for  family  life.  The  vase  of 
flowers  is  almost  equally  inevitable,  and  even  in 
the  poorest  homes  you  can  see  some  spray  of 
flowers  or  leaves  arranged  with  excellent  taste 
in  some  holder  selected  to  suit  its  particular  curve 
and  "  habit."  Sometimes  if  the  back  of  the 
house  be  open  the  view  is  closed  by  a  glimpse  of 
a  little  formal  garden  of  tiny  trees,  boulders,  and 
stone  lanterns.  But  it  is  only  dwelling-houses  of 
the  larger  sort  that  present  to  the  view  such 
gleaming  vistas.  Generally  the  open  house-front 
is  filled  in  with  some  kind  of  shutter.  A  dwelling- 
house  has  sliding  partitions  of  little  square  panes 
of  paper  framed  in  wood,  and  these  at  night  are 
covered  with  solid  wooden  shutters.  Other 
houses  have  sliding  wooden  lattices,  and  the 
workshops    of    carpenters   and    other   craftsmen 


A  Japanese  Street  43 

have  hanging  curtains  of  split  bamboo,  behind 
which  the  men  work  in  the  scantiest  of  costumes. 
In  the  shops  the  wares  are  piled  up  from  floor  to 
ceiling  in  a  semicircle,  leaving  just  room  for  the 
tradesman  to  sit  in  the  middle  with  his  brazier 
and  vase  of  flowers. 

In  front  of  each  shop  swings  a  long  sign,  gen- 
erally of  black  with  gold  decorations,  and  in 
Kioto  there  is  before  every  house  a  great  paper 
lantern,  three  feet  long,  of  the  kind  we  call 
"Chinese." 

Between  the  rows  of  houses  ebbs  and  flows  a 
constant  stream  of  foot-passengers.  Horses  are 
rare  comparatively,  though  occasionally  a  cart 
passes  drawn  by  a  little  high-crested  pony  just 
such  as  appears  on  the  fans.  Much  more  fre- 
quent are  little  carts  pulled  and  pushed  by  men 
and  women,  heavy  laden  with  merchandise.  To 
an  accompaniment  of  much  shouting  and  grunt- 
ing the  rickshaws  thread  their  way  in  and  out. 
A  string  of  them  passes  containing  a  party  of 
tourists  and  their  guide;  or  a  fat  and  command- 
ing-looking Chinaman  is  dragged  by  a  little  Jap- 
anese— a  revenge  for  the  late  unpleasantness. 
In  Tokio  sometimes  a  double  rickshaw  is  met 
with ;  these  are  rather  for  Japanese  than  Euro- 
peans however.  The  coolie  will  take  papa, 
mama,  et  btfb?,  if  Japanese,  who  would  look  as- 
kance if  asked  to  drag  more  than  one  European. 


44  West  and  by  East 

The  crowd  is  quiet,  save  for  the  shuffling  of  the 
pattens  along  the  ground  and  the  low  murmur 
of  voices.  The  general  colour  is  a  subdued  one, 
as  men  and  women  wear  chiefly  dark  greys  and 
blues.  Both  men  and  women  of  the  upper  classes 
wear  the  kimono  and  a  girdle.  The  women's 
girdle,  the  obi,  is  very  broad,  and  expands  be- 
hind into  a  preposterously  big  bow.  Men,  and 
women  too,  wear  socks  with  a  special  place  for  the 
great  toe,  and  the  straps  of  the  sandals  or  pattens 
pass  one  over  the  great  toe  and  the  other  over 
the  rest.  The  women  still  dress  their  hair  in  the 
old  fashion  with  many  pins  and  puffs,  and  rely 
upon  a  paper  umbrella  alone  to  ward  off  rain  and 
sun.  The  men  now  wear  their  hair  cut  short, 
and  often  wear  soft  or  hard  felt  hats  to  complete 
their  Japanese  costume  at  one  extremity,  as  they 
use  European  socks  and  boots  to  clothe  their 
feet,  and  the  effect  is  not  beautiful. 

The  coolies'  costume  is  a  most  excellent  one 
to  set  off  their  fine  figures.  It  consists  of  a  short 
tunic  folding  over  in  front,  tightly  belted,  and 
bare  legs,  or  in  winter  long  blue  tights.  The 
tunic  is  generally  blue  with  a  round,  white  design 
between  the  shoulders  and  some  white  ornaments 
round  the  skirt.  The  round  figure  is,  I  believe, 
the  crest  of  the  coolie's  employer.  One  day  i 
overtook  in  Yokohama  an  ox-cart  beside  which 
there  strolled  a  coolie  on  whose  back  was   the 


A  Japanese  Street  45 

device  of  an  European  firm  of  carriers,  and  round 
the  skirt  of  his  tunic,  with  unintended  irony,  in 
large  white  letters,  the  word  "  Express." 

In  and  out  among  the  crowd  run  numbers  of 
children,  reduced  copies  of  their  elders,  only 
clothed  in  gay  colours,  and  in  the  less  progressive 
towns  with  heads  partially  shaved.  There  are 
few  animals  or  birds  to  be  seen,  though  some- 
times a  couple  of  great  hawks  wheel  and  soar 
overhead. 

As  night  comes  on  lights  gleam  softly  through 
the  paper  windows  or  from  the  hanging  paper 
lanterns.  In  the  more  advanced  towns  gas  and 
electricity  supplement  the  older  and  more  roman- 
tic form  of  lighting.  The  rickshaws  flit  about, 
each  carrying  a  dangling  paper  lantern.  A 
mournful  flute-like  piping  tells  that  the  old  blind 
men  who  act  as  shampooers  are  ready  and  seek- 
ing for  employment.  Prudent  citizens  protect 
their  frail  paper  windows  with  solid  wooden  shut- 
ters, and  the  town  sinks  to  quietness  and  sleep. 


CHAPTER  V 

KAMAKURA  AND   EYNOSHIMA 

THE  next  day,  Tuesday,  was  fine,  and  we  de- 
termined to  take  advantage  of  such  good 
fortune  to  make  a  short  excursion  by  way  of 
occupation  while  deciding  how  to  begin  to  really 
see  Japan.  The  party  consisted  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Montreal  and  a  lady  travelling  with  them,  whom 
I  shall  call  Miss  Brantford,  and  myself.  With 
these  same  people  I  travelled  for  almost  all  the 
rest  of  my  stay  in  Japan,  and  to  their  company  is 
largely  owing  my  enjoyment  of  my  visit. 

Another  very  important  person  there  was  who 
also  became  a  permanent  member  of  our  party. 
This  was  Matsuda,  the  guide.  In  Japan  there  is 
a  guild  of  guides  with  regularly  licensed  mem- 
bers. The  members  are  distributed  among  the 
principal  tourist  towns,  and  a  list  of  the  available 
guides  appears  in  each  hotel,  and  a  guide  may  be 
engaged  through  the  hotel-keeper.  When  once 
a  guide  is  engaged  he  will  travel  anywhere  with 
his  party,  because  the  guides  in  the  different 
towns  are  members  all  of  one  guild  and  not  of 

46 


Kamakura  and  Eynoshima        47 

rival  associations.  There  is  a  regular  tariff  per 
day  according  to  the  size  of  the  party,  the  em- 
ployer paying  the  guide's  travelling  expenses, 
but  not  his  hotel  bills.  The  guide  combines  the 
functions  of  guide  proper,  interpreter,  and  courier. 
He  takes  the  railway  tickets,  engages  the  rooms, 
and  bullies  the  rickshaw  men.  He  accompanies 
the  callow  foreigner  on  his  shopping  excursions, 
the  common  impression  being  that  on  the  one 
hand  the  guide  prevents  his  charge  being  too 
badly  pillaged,  while  on  the  other  he  receives 
from  the  shopkeeper  a  commission  for  introducing 
custom.  I  don't  know  how  true  the  story  of  the 
commission  is,  though  it  sounds  probable;  I  am 
sure  it  is  cheaper  in  the  end  to  go  shopping  with 
a  guide. 

Matsuda  was  a  perfect  paragon  of  guides.  To 
begin  with,  he  was  the  best-dressed  person  in  the 
party ;  in  the  daytime  attired  in  European  style, 
sometimes  with  one  or  two  changes  of  raiment, 
and  in  the  evening  in  native,  and  in  both  styles 
looking  equally  well  dressed,  which  is  more  than 
can  be  said  of  most  Japanese.  He  was  a  good- 
looking  man,  probably  at  least  thirty-five,  but 
looking  younger,  small  and  slim,  with  beauti- 
ful hands.  His  face  generally  wore  a  smile,  of 
welcome  in  the  morning,  of  satisfaction  when  he 
thought  our  praise  intelligent,  of  dignified  depre- 
cation at  questions  which  betrayed  our  foreign 


48  West  and  by  East 

barbarism,  of  good-humoured  bewilderment  when 
his  English  and  ours  could  not  be  reconciled. 
Not  that  his  English  was  not  on  the  whole  pretty 
good,  but  some  days  it  was  worse  than  others, 
and  then  he  became  too  fluent  and  pronounced 
wildly. 

He  had  begun  life,  as  far  as  I  can  remember, 
as  a  Buddhist,  and  then  had  been  successively  a 
Shinto  worshipper,  a  Protestant,  a  Roman  Catho- 
lic, and  when  we  met  him  was  a  sort  of  Shinto- 
Buddhist,  which  I  fancy  meant  very  little.  Most 
of  the  ceremonies  and  beliefs  which  he  was  called 
upon  to  describe  when  we  visited  a  temple  he 
deprecated  as  "  ver'  ol'-fashioned,"  but  yet  dis- 
played a  lurking  hope  that  we  would  not  speak 
of  them  lightly. 

His  many  virtues  and  accomplishments  will 
appear  incidentally,  so  here  I  need  not  enumerate 
them  further. 

The  first  part  of  our  expedition  was  to  be  by 
train  —  to  Kamakura,  a  journey  of  some  fifty 
minutes.  The  Yokohama  railway  station  was 
much  like  an  English  one  except  that  there  were 
no  advertisements,  and  all  directions  were  in 
Japanese  as  well  as  English.  The  officials  wore 
a  sort  of  military  uniform,  and  everything  was 
drawn  to  Japanese  scale,  the  engines  undersized, 
— some  built  in  England  and  some  in  the  United 
States, — the  carriages  small   and    four-wheeled 


Kamakura  and  Eynoshima       49 

The  first-class  ones  are  like  English  saloons  with 
seats  round  three  sides  and  a  lavatory  on  the 
fourth,  the  seats  divided  by  arms  and  unpleasantly 
narrow  for  more  than  a  short  journey.  The 
third-class  are  like  the  old-fashioned  English  ones 
of  the  same  class,  with  no  divisions  above  the 
back  of  the  seats.  The  second-  and  third-class 
carriages  were  always  crowded  with  Japanese, 
and  it  was  a  constant  source  of  wonder  to  us 
where  they  were  all  going  and  why.  On  the 
arrival  of  a  train  one  is  almost  distracted  by  the 
clatter  of  their  innumerable  wooden  clogs  on 
the  concrete  platform. 

The  country  we  passed  through  on  this  short 
journey  was  fairly  typical  of  all  we  saw.  The 
line  wound  among  low  green  hills,  green  to  the 
top,  covered  now  with  pine  trees,  now  with  azalea 
bushes.  The  valleys  were  parcelled  out  into 
little  fields,  terraced  in  places  half-way  up  the 
hillside,  and  yellow  many  of  them  with  the  fast- 
ripening  rice.  We  followed  the  course  of  the 
Tokaido,  one  of  the  ancient  highways,  and  there- 
fore passed  frequent  villages,  sometimes  a  strag- 
gling street,  sometimes  a  handful  of  little  low 
houses,  tile-roofed  or  thatched,  and  often  grow- 
ing a  crop  of  grass  on  the  thatch.  Through  the 
open  house-sides  we  often  caught  glimpses  of  the 
internal  economy,  but  generally  a  bamboo  fence 
or  a  clump  of  growing  bamboo  prevented  this. 


50  West  and  by  East 

It  is  the  great  feathery  plumes  of  the  bamboo 
that  give  to  this  landscape  its  character  as  much 
as  do  the  dark,  straight  lines  of  the  cypress  to  that 
of  Tuscany. 

At  Kamakura  we  took  rickshaws  and  were 
trundled  down  the  straggling  street  which  is  all 
that  is  left  of  the  ancient  capital  of  Japan,  to  the 
temple  of  Hachiman,  the  god  of  war.  The 
temple  is  set  on  the  top  of  many  steps  rising  from 
an  ample  courtyard  in  which  is  a  magnificent 
maiden-hair  tree.  The  building  is  not  particu- 
larly large  or  magnificent,  though  there  is  a  fine 
museum  of  old  weapons  and  gifts  from  successive 
Mikados.  There  is  a  striking  view  from  the 
temple  of  the  road  running  straight  from  the  foot 
of  the  steps  to  the  sea,  spanned  at  intervals  by  a 
torii.  A  torii  is  an  erection  of  beams  like  a  Greek 
capital  II  set  up  at  the  entrance  to  a  temple  or 
before  shrines.  It  is  rather  a  triumphal  arch  than 
a  gateway,  as  there  are  never  any  gates  nor,  as  a 
rule,  any  wall.  They  are  said  to  have  been 
originally  hen-roosts,  and  the  projecting  arms 
were  for  the  accommodation  of  the  hens,  but  for 
this  I  do  not  vouch. 

Immediately  behind  the  temple  of  Hachiman 
is  a  little  hill  on  which  is  the  Daibutsu,  or  Great 
Buddha.  This  is  a  hollow  bronze  image  of 
Buddha,  forty-two  feet  high,  seated  cross-legged 
in  the  usual  posture.     Our  opinions  were  divided 


Kamakura  and  Eynoshima        51 

as  to  whether  the  expression  was  cruel  and  malig- 
nant or  almost  benevolent ;  we  agreed  that  it  was 
calm  and  contemplative.  It  is  possible  to  ascend 
some  distance  inside  the  figure,  where  there  is  a 
small  shrine,  but  no  longer  right  into  the  head. 
Daibutsu  is  now  in  the  open  air,  but  all  around 
can  still  be  seen  the  bases  on  which  once  rested 
the  pillars  of  the  enclosing  temple.  It  was  de- 
molished by  a  tidal  wave  about  four  hundred 
years  ago.  Formerly  tourists  used  to  be  photo- 
graphed standing  or  sitting  on  the  crossed  hands 
of  Buddha  so  as  to  accentuate  their  respective 
sizes,  but  this  is  now  happily  forbidden  because 
the  Japanese  considered  it  irreverent  —  a  feeling 
Matsuda  evidently  shared. 

The  next  piece  of  riding  was  rather  long  and 
lay  through  the  street  of  a  village  where  some 
religious  festival  was  about  to  take  place.  At 
either  end  of  the  street  a  pair  of  long  and  narrow 
banners  was  set  up,  of  white  cloth  painted  with 
great  black  letters.  They  were  fastened  to  tall 
bamboos  decorated  with  streamers,  and  could  be 
seen  from  far  away  over  the  low  houses  and 
waving  rice-fields.  The  eaves  on  either  side  the 
street  were  festooned  with  round  paper  lanterns 
and  little  pieces  of  white  paper.  The  whole 
village  was  full  of  children  in  gay  festival  dress, 
and  the  excitement  culminated  about  half-way 
up  the  street,  where  there  was  a  gaily  decorated 


52  West  and  by  East 

erection  on  wheels.  It  was  perhaps  eight  feet 
square  and  fifteen  high,  and  had  three  stories. 
The  top  one  was  occupied  by  a  gorgeously  dressed 
lay-figure  and  the  lower  two  swarmed  over  by  a 
mass  of  bare-legged  boys  playing  a  ceaseless,  dole- 
ful tattoo  on  a  big  drum.  Later  in  the  day  this 
vehicle  was  to  be  dragged  in  procession  through 
the  village.  Struggling  past  this  we  reached  the 
temple  of  Kwannon,  also  on  the  side  of  a  hill. 
Kwannon  is  the  goddess  of  mercy,  and  there  is 
an  image  of  her  here  thirty  feet  high.  It  is  of 
dull  gilt,  but  so  closely  shut  in  by  the  walls  of 
the  shrine  that  it  is  only  by  means  of  lanterns 
that  it  can  be  seen  at  all,  and  then  only  by  sec- 
tions as  the  attendant  raises  and  lowers  the  light 
by  a  rope  and  pulley.  Perhaps  it  is  this  touch  of 
mystery  that  makes  it  more  impressive  than  the 
Great  Buddha.  We  were  again  impressed  in  this 
temple  by  the  great  resemblance  which  the  images 
bear  in  general  shape  and  colour  to  those  in 
Roman  Catholic  churches. 

Passing  back  through  the  village  street  with  its 
swaying  lanterns  and  fluttering  banners  and  the 
incessant  throb  of  the  drum,  a  short  trot  brought 
us  to  a  hotel  much  patronised  by  Europeans  from 
Yokohama  in  the  summer  months,  and  to  an  ex- 
cellent lunch.  Then  a  long  trot,  mostly  close  to 
the  seashore,  brought  us  to  Eynoshima.  This  is 
a  rocky  island  connected  with  the  mainland  at 


Kamakura  and  Eynoshima        53 

low  water  by  a  long  foot-bridge.  We  left  our 
rickshaws  and  walked  across,  to  find  a  steep,  dirty 
street  lined  with  tea-houses  and  shops  selling 
shell  ornaments.  The  caves,  which  are  the  chief 
attraction,  we  had  not  time  to  see,  and  as  it  was 
we  only  just  regained  our  rickshaws  without  hav- 
ing to  wade.  We  saw  some  fishermen  hauling  in 
their  nets,  and  the  method  seemed  to  us  ingenious. 
The  net  was  near  the  shore,  and  from  either  end 
a  rope  was  carried  on  to  the  beach.  Each  man 
(there  were  some  twenty,  men  and  boys)  had  a 
short  piece  of  cord  with  which  he  hitched  himself 
on  to  the  rope,  facing  the  sea.  The  first  man  was 
quite  near  the  water's  edge,  the  rest  at  regular 
intervals  behind.  They  then  all  leant  their  weight 
against  their  tackles  and  walked  backwards.  As 
each  man  in  turn  came  to  a  certain  point  of  the 
shore  he  unhitched  himself  and  ran  down  to  take 
his  place  at  the  bottom.  By  this  means  a  steady 
pull  was  kept  up  with  apparently  no  great  exer- 
tion. We  were  sorry  we  could  not  wait  to  see 
what  the  net  contained  as  a  reward  for  all  this 
hauling. 

Before  starting  off  again  we  made  our  first  ac- 
quaintance with  Japanese  tea  at  the  little  tea- 
house where  we  had  left  the  rickshaws.  We 
found  it  wonderfully  refreshing  and  not  unpleas- 
ant, though  afterwards  we  had  it  much  better. 
As  a  rule  we  stopped  for  tea  once  or  twice  on 


54  West  and  by  East 

each  excursion.  The  teapot,  the  little  cups,  or 
rather  bowls,  and  the  saucers  (when  there  were 
any,  in  which  case  they  were  oval  and  of  bronze 
or  pewter)  were  always  dainty  and  artistic  how- 
ever poor  the  house.  The  tea  was  straw-coloured 
and  aromatic  in  taste  (our  first  specimen  also 
tasted  of  oil),  and  a  good  deal  stronger  than  it 
looked,  but  then  a  Japanese  cupful  is  only  about 
an  English  tablespoonful.  There  was  never  any 
sugar  or  cream,  but  generally  some  kind  of  small 
cake  was  brought,  perhaps  sponge  cakes,  or  large 
peppermints  or  biscuits;  but  as  a  rule  the  cakes 
were  made  of  bean  flour  and  sugar  pressed  into 
the  shape  of  chrysanthemums  or  other  flowers, 
and  tasting  of  sand  and  sugar. 

Half  an  hour's  run  brought  us  to  Fujisawa 
station,  a  couple  of  stations  beyond  Kamakura. 
We  passed  several  villages,  dirty  and  dismal — for 
in  Japan  the  large  towns  are  far  ahead  of  the  vil- 
lages, especially  the  fishing  villages,  in  cleanliness 
and  apparent  comfort.  In  front  of  most  of  the 
houses  were  mats  covered  with  little  fishes  drying 
and  blackening  in  the  sun,  and  giving  out  a  pun- 
gent smell.     They  are  used  as  a  relish  for  curry. 

At  Fujisawa  we  had  a  little  while  to  wait,  which 
we  spent  in  drinking  tea  and  watching  a  woman 
dressing  her  neighbour's  hair,  an  operation  de- 
manding great  skill  and  taking  an  hour  every 
three  days  or  so. 


Kamakura  and  Eynoshima        55 

We  got  back  to  Yokohama  about  a  quarter  to 
seven,  so  I  had  only  just  time  to  dress,  jump 
into  a  rickshaw, —  this  is  the  ideal  way  to  go  out 
to  dinner  on  a  warm  evening, — and  get  up  to  the 
Bluff  by  dinner-time.  The  house  where  I  was 
dining  was  long,  low,  and  spacious,  hidden  among 
its  trees  and  gardens,  but  the  furniture  was  strictly 
English,  for  my  host  said  he  liked  to  have  every- 
thing about  him  as  English  as  possible,  that  he 
might  forget  how  far  he  was  from  home.  Ex- 
cept for  the  servants  in  their  Japanese  dress  it 
would  have  been  hard  to  suppose  oneself  ten 
thousand  miles  from  home.  I  had  a  very  delight- 
ful evening.  My  ride  down  from  the  Bluff  after- 
wards was  in  fine  weather,  but  in  the  night  there 
came  on  a  terrific  storm  of  wind  and  rain  which 
seemed  as  though  it  would  sweep  my  room  away. 
It  did  wash  away  a  bridge  on  the  main  line  to 
Kob6,  so  that  railway  traffic  was  disorganised  for 
the  next  fortnight.  There  was  also  a  slight  earth- 
quake, but  I  missed  it  by  being  asleep. 

All  Wednesday  it  rained  pitilessly,  but  our 
ardour  would  not  let  us  rest.  So  in  the  morning 
we  did  some  shopping  and  also  went  to  the  tea- 
firing  house  of  a  large  European  firm  to  see  the 
process  of  firing  or  drying.  But  as  it  was  the 
slack  season  we  saw  only  a  little  tea  drying, 
the  leaves  spread  on  large,  flat  baskets  over  little 
charcoal  fires.     We  then  went  into  the  office  to 


56  West  and  by  East 

be  instructed  in  the  mysteries  of  tasting  by  the 
compradore,  or  head-man,  a  most  stately  China- 
man with  flowing  robes  and  exquisite  hands.  He 
selected  four  teas  of  qualities  differing  as  widely 
as  possible,  and  from  each  tea  brewed  a  tiny  pot, 
and  from  each  pot  poured  a  little  cupful.  Then 
we,  with  a  spoon,  took  from  each  cup  in  turn  a 
mouthful,  which  —  according  to  our  orders  —  we 
merely  rolled  round  the  mouth  and  ejected  into 
a  great  tin  funnel  placed  handy.  Even  our  un- 
trained palates  could  distinguish  very  great  differ- 
ence in  the  flavours.  Many  varieties  of  tea  were 
shown  us,  the  most  curious  being  the  "  spider- 
leg,"  in  which  the  leaf  is  tightly  rolled  and  about 
an  inch  long.  It  commands  a  fancy  price,  and  is 
bought  principally  by  the  foreign  men-of-war. 

From  there  I  paddled  through  the  rain  to  tiffin 
at  hospitable  No.  i  The  Bund,  one  of  the  old- 
fashioned  houses  built  when  space  was  no  object, 
and  accordingly  very  airy  and  large.  There  were 
eight  or  ten  at  tiffin,  one  topic  of  conversation 
being  the  earthquake  of  the  previous  night,  which 
to  my  chagrin  I  had  missed.  I  found  out  then, 
what  everyone  I  met  afterwards  also  confessed, 
that  the  more  earthquakes  a  man  feels  the  less 
he  likes  them.  We  as  newcomers  looked  forward 
to  experiencing  one  at  least,  but  the  residents 
knew  them  too  well  to  like  them.  It  is  impossible 
to  tell  just  when  an  earthquake  may  occur,  just 


Kamakura  and  Eynoshima        57 

how  violent  it  will  be  when  it  comes,  and  whether 
it  will  be  your  last,  and  this  idea  seems  to  get  on 
the  nerves. 

After  tiffin  I  rejoined  my  party,  and  with  the 
M.P.  we  went  to  see  a  cloisonne  factory.  It  lay 
some  distance  away,  at  the  end  of  a  dismal  ride 
through  deep  mud  and  huge  puddles.  We  saw 
the  different  processes  of  the  work:  first  the 
smooth  copper  vase,  then  the  pattern  drawn  on  it 
with  a  brush,  then  the  pattern  outlined  with  thin, 
flat  wire  set  on  edge,  then  the  compartments  thus 
formed  filled  in  with  different  coloured  enamels, 
and  so  on  through  sundry  firings,  polishings,  and 
repetitions  to  the  finished  article. 

That  night  I  dined  at  the  United  Club,  for 
which  my  host  of  the  previous  night,  who  was  its 
president,  had  put  me  up.  It  stands  a  little  back 
from  the  road  half-way  along  the  bund,  with  a 
broad  veranda  in  front  where  the  members  lie  in 
long  chairs  and  look  over  the  beautiful  harbour 
or  examine  the  shipping  through  the  telescope. 
It  is  well  equipped  in  every  way,  but  notably 
as  to  bar  and  billiard-room.  The  cooking,  espe- 
cially the  curry,  the  work  of  a  Chinese  artist,  is 
excellent  and  absurdly  cheap.  The  "  boys,"  all 
Japanese,  of  course,  looked  picturesque  in  white 
duck  suits  with  brass  buttons,  knickerbockers, 
red  stockings,  and  buckle  shoes.  Just  before  I 
left  Japan  the  white  duck  changed  to  blue  cloth. 


58  West  and  by  East 

Thursday  we  spent  in  getting  to  Nikko,  a 
wearisome  railway  journey  with  several  changes 
and  tiresome  waits.  Matsuda,  however,  shone 
out  in  a  new  role,  and  so  lent  some  brightness  to 
a  dull  day.  When  he  considered  the  right  mo- 
ment was  come  he  appeared  from  the  second-class 
carriage  where  he  travelled  with  a  tiffin  basket — 
his  own,  with  "  Matsuda  "  on  all  the  crockery, 
and  many  ingenious  devices  to  save  space.  From 
this  he  produced  paper  napkins  and  all  other  re- 
quisite implements,  and  then  an  excellent  cold 
tiffin  of  several  courses,  washed  down  with  claret 
and  mineral  water.  He  served  the  meal  with  the 
skill  of  a  corps  of  trained  servants,  repacked  his 
traps,  and  effaced  himself. 

At  every  station  of  importance  venders  of  tea 
and  edibles  paraded  the  platforms,  crying  their 
wares  in  lugubrious  sing-song  tones.  The  edibles, 
in  neat  wooden  boxes,  were  freely  bought  by  the 
Japanese  passengers,  and  as  some  of  them  looked 
like  tempting  cakes  I  bought  a  box.  But  I  was 
grievously  disappointed,  for  what  looked  like 
sections  of  jam-roll  in  the  uncertain  light  of  the 
station  lamps  turned  out  to  be  clammy  prepara- 
tions of  rice  and  fish,  scarcely,  if  at  all,  cooked. 
However,  Matsuda  was  not  too  proud  to  take 
them  —  out  of  the  carriage  at  all  events.  These 
boxes  of  food  are  a  great  institution  on  Japanese 
railways,  and  are  all  on  one  pattern.     They  are 


Kamakura  and  Eynoshima        59 

oblong  boxes,  perhaps  9  inches  by  6  inches  and 
i£  inches  deep,  of  thin  wood,  smoothed  but  not 
painted,  and  lightly  glued  together.  The  lid, 
merely  a  flat  piece  of  wood,  is  kept  on  by  a  wisp 
of  straw  string  tied  round  the  box.  The  interior 
is  divided  into  compartments  to  keep  the  rice  and 
fish  and  vegetables  —  or  whatever  the  different 
kinds  of  food  may  be  —  separate.  Under  the 
string  is  generally  slipped  a  paper  napkin  and  a 
pair  of  chop-sticks.  Sometimes  the  chop-sticks 
are  made  of  one  piece  of  plain  white  wood  split 
but  not  completely  severed.  The  buyer  when  he 
breaks  the  sticks  apart  can  thus  be  sure  that  they 
have  never  been  used  before.  Add  that  from  be- 
tween the  chop-sticks  so  separated  generally  falls  a 
wooden  toothpick,  and  it  will  be  seen  that  every 
contingency  is  provided  for;  at  a  cost  so  small 
that  the  whole  apparatus  is  thrown  away  when 
once  used,  with  the  result  that  the  railway  em- 
bankments are  littered  everywhere  with  little 
white  boxes. 

When  it  was  not  raining  it  was  threatening  to 
rain,  so  that  the  views  were  moist  and  monoton- 
ous. The  principal  thing  of  interest  was  the  fine 
river  which  we  crossed,  the  Tonegawa,  broader 
than  normal  because  of  the  heavy  rains. 

It  was  dark  when  we  reached  Nikko,  and  as  we 
were  trundled  up  the  long  straggling  street,  on 
each   side   huge   cryptomeria    loomed   ghostlike 


60  West  and  by  East 

out  of  the  darkness,  and  through  open  doors  we 
caught  occasional  glimpses  of  families  lying,  round 
their  braziers  or  in  the  circle  of  light  cast  by  a 
hanging  American  lamp.  The  road  ended  with 
a  sudden  very  steep,  but  short,  hill,  and  our 
panting  coolies  set  us  down  at  the  door  of  the 
Kanaya  Hotel. 


CHAPTER  VI 

NIKKO 

THE  hotel  is  kept  by  a  Japanese,  but  is  run  on 
European  lines,  and  is  clean  and  airy,  the 
rooms  large,  and  opening  on  to  broad  verandas. 
Being  set  on  a  hill  it  commands  a  fine  view  of  the 
brawling  stream  at  the  bottom  of  the  valley  and  of 
the  opposite  hill  where  the  great  mausolea  lie  hid- 
den among  tall  cryptomeria.  These  giant  conifers 
grow  to  an  enormous  size  about  Nikko,  forming 
excellent  backgrounds  for  the  brightly  coloured 
temples,  and  lining  the  great  post  road  with  a 
superb  avenue. 

In  the  morning  we  set  out  to  see  the  sights, 
crossing  the  river  by  a  plain  wooden  bridge.  Just 
above  this  bridge  is  another  very  graceful  one  of 
dull  red  paint  or  lacquer.  But  this  is  sacred  to 
the  feet  of  gods  alone,  and  though  the  Mikado — 
himself  a  god  upon  earth  —  was  on  one  occasion 
asked  by  the  priests  to  cross  it,  he  modestly 
refused  and  thus  earned  himself  a  glorious 
name.  This  is  a  story  of  Matsuda's.  Mat- 
suda  would  not  give  any  direct  answers  to  our 
questions  about  the   Mikado   and   how  he  was 

61 


62  West  and  by  East 

regarded  by  the  bulk  of  the  people.  The  only- 
thing  he  would  say  was  that  once  at  a  review 
the  Mikado  noticed  a  soldier  limping,  and  on 
inquiry  found  it  was  due  to  bad  boots;  he  de- 
manded to  see  a  pair  of  military  boots,  at  once 
condemned  them,  and  ordered  a  new  kind  to  be 
provided.  "  Oh,  yes,  he  is  ver'  good,"  Matsuda 
concluded. 

Above  the  bridges  the  river  runs  between  hills 
which  on  one  side  come  down  steep  and  wooded 
to  the  water's  edge  and  on  the  other  leave  room 
for  a  strip  of  cultivated  land,  a  few  houses,  and 
a  broad,  well-kept  road.  The  red  bridge  in  the 
foreground  completes  a  beautiful  picture.  The 
road,  by  the  way,  is  equipped  with  telegraph 
poles  and  wires  and  a  narrow-gauge  tramway,  by 
which  the  copper  is  brought  from  the  mines 
higher  up  the  valley. 

Across  the  road  a  broad  ascent,  half  path  and 
half  a  flight  of  very  shallow  steps  winding  between 
great  cryptomeria,  brought  us  to  the  first  of  the 
temples,  the  Sambutsu-do,  or  Hall  of  the  Three 
Buddhas. 

Nikko  is  the  Mecca  of  Japan,  and  the  whole 
hillside  is  a  sacred  enclosure,  in  which,  besides 
the  two  great  mausolea, — of  Ieyasu  and  Iemitsu, 
— there  are  several  smaller  temples  and  a  great 
number  of  subordinate  buildings. 

All  this  enclosure  is  laid  out  as  a  park,   and 


Nikko  63 

forms  a  very  beautiful  setting  for  the  famous 
shrines.  Long,  straight  gravel  walks  lead  up  to 
the  principal  buildings,  and  are  in  some  cases 
very  broad,  with  a  stream  of  clear  water  flowing 
down  a  paved  channel  in  the  middle.  On  either 
side  are  walls  of  ancient  lichen-spotted  stone  to 
about  the  height  of  a  man,  topped  by  red  wooden 
palings,  whose  colour  has  been  brought  by  sun 
and  rain  into  harmony  with  the  grey  stones  and 
the  great  green  trees  behind.  The  charm  of 
Nikko  lies  in  this  combination  of  rather  sombre 
natural  beauties  and  a  gay,  almost  gaudy,  arch- 
itecture, and  in  the  quietness  and  dignity  brood- 
ing over  all. 

The  first  temple  we  came  to,  that  of  the  Three 
Buddhas,  is  not  particularly  interesting,  because 
quite  modern.  It  owes  its  origin  to  the  revolu- 
tion of  1868.  Prior  to  that  time  the  indigenous 
Shinto  religion  and  the  exotic  Buddhism  had  be- 
come closely  interwoven,  so  that  many  symbols 
and  images  peculiar  to  Buddhism  had  appeared  in 
Shinto  temples.  But  at  the  revolution,  or  re- 
storation, pure  Shintoism  became  the  established 
religion  of  the  awakened  monarchy,  and  to  obtain 
this  purity  all  the  Shinto  temples  were  purged  of 
anything  savouring  of  Buddhism.  It  was  to 
shelter  thiee  Buddhas  thus  rendered  homeless 
that  this  temple  of  Sambutsu  was  erected. 

From  here  we  had  a  little  distance  to  walk  to 


64  West  and  by  East 

the  mausoleum  of  Iemitsu,  stopping  occasionally 
(or,  as  it  seemed  to  the  rest  of  us,  often)  to  let 
Mr.  Montreal  snap  a  view  which  struck  him  as 
likely  to  make  a  good  lantern-slide. 

I  have  neither  the  intention  nor  the  power  to 
describe  these  mausolea  in  detail.  That  has 
been  often  done,  but  can  never  be  done  ade- 
quately. Nor  have  I  any  fresh  facts  to  offer  as 
to  Ieyasu  and  Iemitsu.  Ieyasu,  the  founder  of 
the  great  Tokugawa  line  of  Shoguns,  died  in 
1616,  and  his  son  erected  at  Nikko  —  already 
famous  for  its  monastery  —  this  memorial  chapel 
and  tomb.  Iemitsu  was  his  grandson,  also  a 
Shogun,  who  died  in  16$  1.  To  him,  too,  a 
magnificent  chapel  and  tomb  were  built.  Iem- 
itsu's  chapel  is  Buddhist;  that  in  memory  of 
Ieyasu  is  Shinto. 

With  the  view  of  keeping  the  best  to  the  end 
we  went  to  the  temple  of  Iemitsu  first.  Outside 
its  outer  gate  are  rows  of  stalls  where  the  faithful 
may  buy  tiny  wooden  idols  as  souvenirs  of  their 
pilgrimage  to  Nikko.  Within  this  gate  we  turned 
sharp  to  the  left  and  climbed  a  broad  flight  of 
steps  leading,  with  many  turns  and  twists,  up  a 
wooded  hill.  The  steps  and  balustrades  are  all 
of  grey  lichen-spotted  stone.  The  latter  are 
massive,  with  uprights,  bases,  and  copings,  all  of 
hewn  stone  and  all  about  seven  inches  square, 
but  at  first  sight  not  remarkable.     But  Matsuda 


Nikko  65 

pointed  out  that  the  balustrade  is  made  in  lengths 
of  four  or  five  feet — simply  great  solid  blocks  hewn 
and  pierced  to  resemble  masonry.  This  was  done 
by  the  Shogun  building  the  shrine  with  the  de- 
liberate intention  of  impoverishing  the  daimios 
who  were  contributing  the  balustrades.  The 
Shogun  was  an  overgrown  commander-in-chief 
who  had  managed  tq  perpetuate  his  dynasty,  and 
the  daimios  his  armed  retainers,  who  grew  into  a 
turbulent  nobility,  ready,  if  allowed  any  power, 
each  to  play  the  Shogun  in  his  own  sphere. 

These  great  temples  at  Nikko  are  distinguished 
rather  by  their  ornaments  than  their  architecture. 
In  general  plan  they  are  similar  to  the  ordinary 
type  of  temple.  This  consists  mainly  of  an  ob- 
long building  with  a  high  pitched  roof  often 
supported  by  one  or  two  rows  of  columns.  The 
whole  of  one  long  side  is  generally  open  or 
closed  only  with  movable  blinds.  On  the  oppos- 
ite side  a  smaller  building  projects  at  right  angles. 
This  smaller  building  contains  the  shrine  or  the 
image,  while  the  larger  one  is  for  the  worshipper. 
The  temple  stands  in  a  courtyard  bounded  by  a 
high  wall  or  a  sort  of  cloister,  and  is  approached 
by  a  short  flight  of  steps.  The  gate  in  this  wall 
is  placed  opposite  the  main  entrance  of  the 
temple  and  is  sometimes  connected  with  it 
by  a  covered  way.  Sometimes  there  is  another 
outer  courtyard  and  another  gate.     These  gates 


66  West  and  by  East 

are  always  tall  and  imposing  erections.  There 
are,  as  a  rule,  numerous  subordinate  buildings 
grouped  round  the  main  buildings,  especially 
if  there  is  a  monastery  attached  to  the  tem- 
ple. 

The  exterior  of  the  temple  may  be  compara- 
tively plain,  but  a  wealth  of  ornament  is  lav- 
ished on  the  interior  and  on  the  great  entrance 
gate  and  the  courtyard  wall.  Only  the  found- 
ations, as  a  rule,  are  stone,  while  the  buildings 
themselves  are  of  wood  lacquered  in  various 
colours,  with  gilded  metal  clamps  and  bolts.  The 
roofs  and  their  enormous  flaring  eaves  are  covered 
with  fluted  tiles.  The  wall  of  the  courtyard  also 
has  a  similar  broad-eaved  roof  to  keep  the  weather 
from  its  elaborately  carved  panels. 

The  courtyard  wall  of  the  temple  of  Iemitsu  is 
comparatively  plain.  It  has  lattice-work  panels 
in  the  middle  and  only  a  narrow  band  of  carved 
work  at  the  top  and  bottom.  Passing  through 
the  gate  we  came  to  the  steps  of  the  temple  itself. 
Here  we  had  to  take  off  our  boots.  This  is  gen- 
erally necessary,  the  alternative  being  to  put  a 
sort  of  bag  of  cloth  over  boots  and  all.  It  is 
rather  a  nuisance,  but  even  if  it  were  not  the  rule, 
I  think  one  would  be  disposed  to  do  it  of  one's 
own  accord.  The  floors  of  the  temple  and  the 
steps  are  all  of  polished  lacquer,  though  occasion- 
ally matted,  and  one  feels  as  if  one  had  by  some 


Nikko  67 

Alice-in-Wonderland  process  shrunk  to  a  size  fit 
to  enter  a  Japanese  cabinet. 

The  interior  is  most  beautiful.  The  decora- 
tion, though  daring  and  elaborate,  is  all  in  good 
taste,  evidently  good  of  its  kind,  and  moreover 
toned  by  time  into  harmony.  The  flat  ceiling 
is  supported  all  round  by  columns.  On  three 
sides  the  spaces  between  the  pillars  are  filled  with 
lattice  screens  which  can  easily  be  opened  and 
on  one  side  always  are  open.  On  the  fourth  side, 
in  which  is  the  entrance  to  the  shrine,  these  spaces 
are  closed  by  wooden  screens  lacquered  with  huge 
lions  on  a  dull  gold  background.  The  pillars,  too, 
are  a  dull  gold ;  above  them  runs  a  broad  frieze  of 
gold  set  with  panels  of  flowers  and  birds  carved  in 
high  relief  and  painted  in  the  natural  colours.  The 
ceiling  is  panelled,  the  beams  black  and  gold,  the 
panels  blue  with  gold  dragons.  The  little  furni- 
ture there  is  consists  principally  of  a  row  of  small 
tables,  each  supporting  a  large  box  containing  the 
priests'  service-books.  These,  too,  are  lacquer. 
From  the  description  this  may  seem  gaudy,  in 
reality  it  was  not  so;  the  gold  was  dull  so  as 
to  produce  the  effect  of  subdued  sunshine;  also, 
the  room  was  large  and  well  proportioned,  and 
there  was  very  little  in  it  to  interfere  with  the 
harmony  of  walls  and  ceiling.  I  can  give  no  idea  of 
the  wealth  and  perfection  of  detail,  which  is  per- 
haps almost  more  noticeable  on  the  plain  exterior. 


68  West  and  by  East 

There  the  brass  fastenings  were  almost  the  only 
ornament,  but  these  were  all  in  graceful  shapes 
and  all  engraved  with  some  tasteful  pattern. 

By  the  ordinary  tourist  a  Japanese  temple  is  a 
sight  which  can  be  soon  seen,  though  the  student 
of  Japanese  art  may  require  weeks.  On  this  oc- 
casion we  were  ordinary  tourists,  for  we  did  not 
linger  very  long  at  Ieyasu's  temple,  but,  if  I  must 
tell  the  truth,  went  back  to  tiffin. 

In  the  afternoon  we  crossed  the  river  and  went 
a  little  way  up  the  valley,  and  then  recrossed  to 
the  Hundred  Buddhas.  We  had  tea  in  a  summer- 
house  overlooking  the  turbulent  stream  opposite  a 
large,  smooth  rock  rising  sheer  from  the  water,  on 
which  the  eyes  of  the  faithful  can  read  mira- 
culous writing.  This  tea  was  another  triumph  for 
Matsuda. 

There  is  a  superstition  that  no  two  people  can 
count  the  row  of  Buddhas  alike.  Miss  Brantford 
and  I  tried,  and  in  the  first  portion  one  of  us 
counted  twenty-seven,  the  other  twenty-eight, 
nor  could  several  attempts  make  any  difference. 
We  felt  quite  pleased  with  our  success.  The 
images  are  each  about  five  feet  high  as  they  sit, 
about  a  yard  apart,  and  very  much  alike.  More- 
over, the  path  between  them  and  the  river  bank 
was  full  of  large  puddles,  needing  a  great  deal  of 
attention,  a  consideration  which,  I  think,  may 
account  for  the  discrepancy. 


Nikko  69 

All  this  day  the  weather  was  threatening,  but 
on  Saturday  it  was  fine,  an  opportunity  Mr. 
Montreal  and  I  determined  to  seize  to  ride  up 
some  eight  miles  and  twenty-three  hundred  feet 
to  Chuzenji,  and  if  possible  a  further  eight  miles 
and  seven  hundred  feet  to  Yumoto.  As  Nikko  it- 
self stands  two  thousand  feet  above  sea  level  this 
would  bring  us  by  easy  stages  to  five  thousand  feet. 

There  were  four  possible  methods  of  progres- 
sion open  to  us:  to  walk,  but  for  this  we  were 
disinclined ;  to  be  dragged  in  rickshaws,  but  we 
were  too  heavy  to  make  this  pleasant  for  ourselves 
or  the  coolies ;  to  be  carried  in  a  kago.  Now  a 
kago  is  a  small,  square  seat  suspended  from  a  big 
bamboo  carried  on  coolies'  shoulders.  The  occu- 
pant must  sit  in  a  very  cramped  position,  which 
only  a  Japanese  can  do  for  any  length  of  time, 
even  if  the  kagos  were  not  all  made  to  Japanese 
measure.  The  fourth  method,  to  ride,  was  left 
us,  and  early  in  the  morning  two  small,  rough 
ponies  made  their  appearance.  They  were  not 
beautiful  to  look  at,  but  we  found  them  very 
willing  to  go,  though  their  trot  was  too  short  to 
be  comfortable.  With  each  pony  was  a  coolie, 
one  a  mere  boy.  They  trotted  along  beside  us 
all  day,  apparently  quite  happy,  though  carrying 
the  lunch-basket  and  camera  for  at  least  half  the 
distance. 

Our  way  lay  up  the  valley  for  a  little  and  then 


70  West  and  by  East 

turned  sharp  to  the  right  along  the  side  of  a 
tributary  stream.  The  path  rose  rapidly  and  its 
quality  as  rapidly  declined.  We  stopped  at  a 
tea-house  to  breathe  the  men  and  horses,  and 
after  this  the  climb  really  began.  The  hills  on 
each  side  were  steeper  and  higher,  in  some  places 
coming  sheer  down  into  the  stream,  so  that  the 
path  had  to  be  carried  on  a  flimsy-looking  scaf- 
folding covered  with  sticks  and  earth  hanging 
over  the  river.  Crossing  the  river  the  road  ran 
in  zigzags  up  through  a  wood  of  fine  chestnuts, 
beeches,  and  maples,  in  some  cases  turning  crim- 
son or  scarlet.  We  had  left  the  pines  below  us. 
The  glimpses  between  the  trees  down  into  the 
valley  were  magnificent.  The  hills  on  both  sides 
were  thickly  wooded  to  the  tops  except  where 
just  opposite  us  a  great  cliff  stood  out  too  abrupt 
for  any  tree  to  find  root-hold.  It  struck  me  as  re- 
sembling but  glorifying  the  pass  of  Killiecrankie. 
The  path  continued  steep  till  we  were  quite  close 
to  Chuzenji,  where  we  turned  aside  to  see  the 
fine  waterfall  by  which  the  river  leaves  the  lake. 
Then  a  short  ride  on  the  flat  brought  us  to  the 
village. 

Chuzenji  is  for  a  few  days  in  the  year  thronged 
with  pilgrims,  but  for  the  rest  presents  a  deserted 
appearance,  as  most  of  the  houses  lining  its  one 
broad  street  are  closed  except  when  required 
for  pilgrims'  lodgings.    We  went  by  Matsuda's 


Nikko  71 

instructions — for  he  himself  had  stayed  with  the 
ladies  at  Nikko — to  a  new  hotel  kept  by  a  Japan- 
ese, but  to  some  extent  European  in  its  furniture. 
We  lunched  in  a  broad  veranda  on  the  upper 
story  carpeted  with  clean  matting,  ceiled  and 
walled  with  wood  smoothed  but  unvarnished. 
The  sliding  paper  shutters  were  open,  and  we 
looked  right  down  into  the  water.  On  either 
hand  stretched  the  quaint  wooden  houses  of  the 
village  set  on  substantial  stone  foundations  which 
rose  straight  out  of  the  lake.  Before  us  lay  the 
beautiful  lake,  about  two  miles  across,  backed  by 
lofty  green  hills.  There  were  magnificent  clouds 
about,  whose  shadows  a  bright  sun  cast  on  the 
hills  and  the  quiet  lake,  where  one  or  two  boats 
were  fishing.  The  salmon-trout,  fresh  from  the 
lake  and  excellently  cooked,  was  good,  the  cold 
meats  and  things  with  which  the  thoughtful 
Matsuda  had  supplied  us  were  good,  and  so  was 
the  appetite  we  had  acquired  riding.  Altogether 
there  was  every  reason  for  enjoying  and  remem- 
bering a  delightful  meal.  But  we  could  not 
linger  long,  for  we  decided  to  try  and  get  up  to 
Yumoto  and  back  if  possible  the  same  night; 
usually  people,  if  not  in  a  hurry,  spend  one  night 
at  Chuzenji  or  Yumoto. 

For  some  time  the  road  wound  along  the  edge 
of  the  lake  through  woods  where  we  saw  hydran- 
geas six  and  seven  feet  high  covered  with  their 


72  West  and  by  East 

blue  flowers.  Then  we  climbed  up  through  the 
woods  to  a  broad  grassy  plateau  studded  with 
occasional  trees.  Whereas  at  Nikko  the  maples 
were  only  just  turning  colour,  up  here  the  colours 
were  magnificent,  whole  trees  glowing  bright 
scarlet  or  crimson  in  every  leaf.  Then  these  few 
trees  ceased,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen 
but  tall  grass  and  a  German  steamer  acquaintance 
whom  we  overtook  in  a  rickshaw  with  three 
coolies  and  his  guide  behind  in  another,  and 
whom  we  accordingly  rallied  on  his  luxurious 
habits.  On  the  other  side  of  this  plateau  were 
more  woods  and  a  couple  more  waterfalls,  very 
pretty  but  not  tremendous,  which  our  coolies 
compelled  us  to  visit,  and  then  the  lake  and 
village  of  Yumoto.  The  lake  is  a  great  deal 
smaller  than  that  of  Chuzenji,  and  the  village, 
which  is  famous  for  its  hot  sulphur  springs,  con- 
sists almost  entirely  of  inns  and  bath-houses. 
These  latter  are  very  primitive, — simply  large 
swimming  -  baths  roofed  over  and  enclosed  on 
three  sides,  but  left  open  towards  the  road,  so 
that  the  bathers — men,  women,  and  children — are 
in  full  view  of  the  public.  But  then  the  Japanese 
idea  of  decency  is  radically  different  from  ours, 
and  this  state  of  things  is  to  them  by  no  means 
strange,  though  it  appeared  doubly  so  to  us  be- 
cause of  the  veneer  of  Western  civilisation  so 
many  of  them  now  assume. 


Nikko  73 

We  went  up  to  the  actual  spring  where  the 
water  comes  up  very  hot,  and  found  half  a  dozen 
men  in  a  small  tank  lying  soaking  with  just  their 
heads  and  toes  visible.  This  they  will  do  once 
or  twice  a  day  for  two  or  three  hours  at  a  stretch. 
The  Japanese  are  much  troubled  with  diseases  of 
the  skin,  and  hence  their  affection  for  these  hot 
sulphur  baths. 

We  could  not  stay  long  at  Yumoto  but  hurried 
back  to  Chuzenji,  leading  our  ponies  down  some 
pretty  steep  places  by  way  of  short  cuts.  At 
Chuzenji  we  picked  up  the  lunch-baskets,  and 
gave  the  coolies  some  saki.  I  don't  know 
whether  they  were  really  tired,  but  they  looked 
so,  and  gladly  accepted  any  refreshment.  At- 
tendance on  horses  seems  thirsty  work  in  any 
climate.  Soon  after  we  left  Chuzenji  darkness 
fell  on  us,  and  then  rain.  One  of  the  coolies 
borrowed  a  large  paper  lantern  to  light  the  way 
and  two  large  paper  umbrellas  to  keep  us  dry. 
The  road  was  very  rough  and  muddy,  cut  through 
thick  woods  with  many  awkward  corners,  and  we 
also  remembered  the  flimsy  scaffoldings  we  had 
crossed  in  the  morning,  so  for  an  hour  or  so  we 
preferred  to  walk.  It  was  a  queer-looking  pro- 
cession,— the  two  rough  ponies,  each  led  by  a 
coolie  in  tightly  fitting  garments,  we  two  foreign- 
ers with  our  big  umbrellas,  now  for  the  first  time 
found  to  be  more  than  mere  ornaments,  and  the 


74  West  and  by  East 

lantern  swaying  in  the  leading  cooly's  hand  and 
casting  weird  shadows  on  rocks  and  trees. 

When  we  mounted  at  the  bottom  of  the  steep 
part  I  was  riding  last,  and  the  light  held  by  Mr. 
Montreal's  coolie  showed  me  a  queer  figure  strid- 
ing before  me.  All  I  could  see  was  a  great 
umbrella,  then  the  trailing  skirts  of  an  overcoat, 
and  beneath  the  pony's  hind  legs  and  tail,  so 
that  it  seemed  as  if  some  monstrous  beast  of  the 
centaur  tribe  were  stalking  ahead  of  me.  But 
even  with  such  company  the  road  seemed  end- 
less, though  it  was  only  eight  o'clock  when  we 
reached  the  hotel.  As  we  were  neither  of  us  in 
good  riding  condition,  the  seven  hours  we  had 
been  in  the  saddle  made  us  feel  pretty  stiff,  but  a 
Japanese  hot  bath  soon  corrected  that  and  made 
us  very  ready  for  our  dinner  and  to  recommend 
the  expedition  to  a  large  party  of  Empress  friends 
who  arrived  at  the  hotel  that  night. 

The  next  day  was  by  the  calendar  Sunday,  the 
3d,  but  there  was,  of  course,  nothing  to  indicate 
the  fact,  which  impressed  me  considerably, — 
though  quite  unreasonably, — as  it  was  the  first 
Sunday  I  had  ever  spent  in  a  non-Christian  coun- 
try. To  say  nothing  indicates  the  fact  is,  by  the 
way,  inaccurate,  as  the  schools  are  closed  on 
Sunday  to  give  the  children  one  day's  holiday  in 
the  week. 

In  the  morning  we  went  some  four  or  five  miles 


Nikko  75 

to  a  little  tea-house  set  on  top  of  a  hill  near  Kiri- 
furi-no-taki,  or  the  Mist  Falling  Cascade.  The 
ladies  went  in  carrying  chairs,  and  Mr.  Montreal, 
Matsuda,  and  I  rode.  Matsuda  showed  himself 
a  great  horseman  in  his  way,  which  meant  prin- 
cipally going  at  a  fast  trot  or  canter  wherever  the 
road  could  by  any  means  allow  of  it.  The  path 
in  places  seemed  quite  impossible  for  horses,  but 
the  little  Jap  ponies  took  us  safely  up  flights  of 
rocky  steps  and  through  mud  over  their  knees. 
From  the  tea-house  hill  we  had  a  beautiful  view  of 
the  circle  of  larger  hills  in  which  it  lay,  steep- 
sided  green  hills  dotted  with  low,  green  azalea 
bushes. 

In  the  afternoon  Mr.  Montreal  and  I  went  to 
see  the  other  great  temple,  that  of  Ieyasu,  which 
the  ladies  had  seen  the  day  before  while  we  were 
at  Chuzenji.  This  is  a  Shinto  temple,  but  other- 
wise very  similar  to  the  temple  of  Iemitsu,  though 
larger,  more  elaborate,  and  even  more  beautiful. 
At  its  entrance  stands  a  pagoda  —  one  of  the  few 
in  Japan.  It  is  square  and  five-storied,  one  hund- 
red feet  high.  Among  the  subordinate  buildings 
we  passed  on  the  way  to  the  temple  was  the 
stable  of  the  sacred  pony.  We  did  not  see  the 
animal,  but  believe  it  to  be  white.  His  stable  is 
interesting  because  of  the  three  monkeys  carved 
over  the  doors.  One  is  covering  his  eyes  with 
his  hands,  another  his  ears,   and  the  third  his 


76  West  and  by  East 

mouth,  and  they  are  called  the  blind,  deaf,  and 
dumb  monkeys  who  respectively  see  no  evil,  hear 
no  evil,  and  speak  no  evil.  They  are  a  very 
favourite  subject  in  Japanese  art,  appearing  again 
and  again  in  wood,  ivory,  or  bronze.  In  an- 
other building  with  wide-open  doors  was  seated 
an  elderly  and  preternaturally  solemn  priestess. 
When  we  threw  a  small  coin  on  to  the  mat  in 
front  of  her  she  rose  and  performed  what  was 
called  a  dance,  but  it  seems  too  frivolous  a  name 
for  the  ceremony.  With  long,  flowing  robes  and 
a  towering  head-dress  she  solemnly  revolved,  ad- 
vanced, retreated,  bowed,  marking  the  time  with 
a  fan  in  one  hand  and  a  cluster  of  little  bells  in 
the  other.  In  time  she  stopped  and  resumed  her 
seat  as  noiselessly  and  automatically  as  she  had 
begun.  The  whole  dance,  which  is  some  kind  of 
a  sacred  function,  reminded  me  strongly  of  the 
penny-in-the-slot  toys  of  seaside  places — to  com- 
pare great  things  with  small. 

The  chief  glory  of  this  temple  is  the  entrance 
gate  and  wall  of  the  great  courtyard.  The  gate 
is  two  storied  with  flaring  tile  roof.  It  is  a  mass 
of  fantastic  carving  and  gorgeous  colouring,  per- 
haps too  gorgeous  and  fantastic,  but  on  the  whole 
beautiful.  So  beautiful  was  it  considered  that  it 
was  thought  wise  that  one  of  the  dozen  pillars  on 
which  it  stands  should  be  placed  upside  down. 
So  in  this  pillar  the  points  of  the  diaper  orna- 


Nikko  77 

mentation  point  down  instead  of  up,  and  though 
the  difference  would  escape  anyone  whose  atten- 
tion was  not  particularly  called  to  it,  it  is  enough 
to  avert  the  wrath  the  gods  might  have  evinced 
against  a  perfect  building.  On  each  side  of  this 
gate  on  a  stone  foundation  is  the  matchless 
wooden  wall.  It  is  topped  by  broad  tiled  eaves, 
and  is  a  miracle  of  carving  and  carpentry.  There 
are  two  rows  of  panels,  large  and  small,  the  larger 
ones  above.  They  are  filled  with  groups  of  birds 
and  flowers,  the  lower  ones  confined  to  water 
birds.  The  carving  is  in  full  relief,  though,  as 
we  afterwards  found,  this  effect  is  helped  by 
judicious  piecing  as  regards  some  of  the  most 
prominent  parts.  The  carving  is  all  coloured 
proper,  and  no  two  panels  are  quite  alike,  and 
each  is  worth  studying  separately. 

In  almost  startling  contrast  to  this  magnificence 
is  the  actual  tomb.  As  in  the  case  of  the  tomb 
of  Iemitsu  and  also  of  some  of  the  tombs  at 
Tokio,  Ieyasu's  tomb  is  a  little  behind  the  temple 
and  in  the  open.  It  is  surrounded  by  a  simple 
stone  balustrade,  and  before  it  on  a  low  stone 
table  are  a  great  bronze  stork,  a  bronze  incense 
burner,  and  a  bronze  vase  full  of  artificial  lotus 
flowers  and  leaves.  The  tomb  is  a  great  bell- 
shaped  bronze  casting  with  a  spreading  square 
top  shaped  like  a  pagoda  roof,  and  stands  on  half 
a  dozen  stone  steps,  so  that  the  whole  structure 


78  West  and  by  East 

may  be  some  fifteen  feet  high.  It  is  almost  in- 
nocent of  ornament,  and  most  dignified. 

After  seeing  the  temple  we  climbed  innumer- 
able flights  of  grey  stone  steps,  still  among  giant 
cryptomeria,  to  some  minor  temples  and  shrines 
at  the  top  of  the  hill.  A  priest  in  flowing  yellow 
robes  climbing  in  front  of  us  lent  a  final  touch  of 
colour  to  the  scene. 

Monday  morning  we  devoted  to  seeing  another 
waterfall,  the  Urami-ga-taki,  or  Back  View  Cas- 
cade, so  called  because  there  is  a  path  right  behind 
and  under  it.  In  the  afternoon  we  did  some 
shopping.  Shopping  may  be  taken  as  forming  a 
running  accompaniment  to  all  our  other  doings, 
and  did  not  necessarily  involve  much,  or  any, 
buying.  In  the  evening  we  had  an  earthquake, 
not  violent  but  rather  long.  As  it  was  our  first 
we  remarked,  "  This  is  an  earthquake,"  and  sat 
listening  to  the  rattle  of  the  shutters  and  watching 
the  furniture  quake.  Probably  our  one  hundredth 
would  not  have  found  us  so  calm. 

On  Tuesday  we  left  for  Tokio.  We  had 
thought  of  going  by  rickshaw  down  the  Nikko 
Kaido,  a  twenty-mile  avenue  of  cryptomeria,  to 
Utsunomiya,  and  joining  the  train  there  ;  but  the 
rain  fell  in  torrents,  and  we  had  to  give  up  this 
plan  and  go  all  the  way  by  rail.  It  rained  all 
day,  and  was  raining  when  we  reached  Tokio 
after    dark.     Tokio    is    a    city    of    magnificent 


Nikko  79 

distances,  and  as  we  rode  to  the  Imperial  Hotel 
through  endless  broad  streets  we  saw  others 
stretching  away  interminably  in  all  directions, 
their  countless  lights  reflected  in  innumerable 
puddles. 


CHAPTER  VII 

TOKIO 

THE  Imperial  Hotel  is  a  most  imposing  build- 
ing (for  Japan),  stucco,  with  a  mansard 
roof.  Originally,  I  believe,  opened  and  run  by  a 
Frenchman,  it  retains  distinct  traces  of  France  in 
its  furniture.  Now  it  is  run  by  a  Japanese,  and 
is  not  quite  so  good  as  its  exterior  seems  to 
promise.  The  rooms  and  corridors  are  big  and 
bare,  and  some  of  the  walls  scarred  with  great 
earthquake  cracks. 

Sightseeing  in  Tokio  is  no  mere  pleasure  ex- 
cursion, as  we  found  on  Wednesday  when  we 
began  upon  it.  The  points  of  interest  all  seem  to 
lie  towards  the  circumference  of  the  great  city, 
and  it  is  easy  to  waste  several  hours  a  day  in  just 
getting  about. 

It  is  a  very  extraordinary  city.  To  begin  with, 
it  has  some  million  and  a  half  inhabitants,  and  is 
popularly  supposed  to  measure  ten  miles  in  either 
direction.  On  the  native  Japanese  civilisation 
has  been  forcibly  engrafted  the  exotic  system  of 
the  West.  At  one  moment  you  would  say  that 
the  two  civilisations  were  flourishing  side  by  side, 

80 


Tokio  8 1 

and  the  next  it  would  appear  that  the  new  ideas 
were  about  to  replace  altogether  the  ancient.  In 
the  government  quarter  most  of  the  buildings  are 
of  brick  and  stucco,  in  a  debased  European  style. 
There  are,  for  instance,  large  brick  government 
offices,  and  stucco  mansions  with  mansard  roofs 
where  great  nobles  live,  and  one  where  the  Nobles' 
Club  is  housed,  which  last,  by  the  way,  was  suf- 
fering severely  from  the  effects  of  earthquake 
when  I  was  in  Tokio.  These  buildings  stand 
gaunt  and  bare  in  the  midst  of  great  areas  of 
waste  land  intersected  by  straight,  immensely 
broad,  new  roads.  In  other  quarters  of  the  town 
the  principal  sign  of  change  is  the  breadth  of  the 
main  streets.  The  surface  is  still  lumpy  from  the 
disturbances  necessary  to  lay  a  new  system  of 
water  pipes.  Down  the  centre  run  little  ram- 
shackle tram-cars  drawn  by  miserable  horses,  and 
on  either  side  stand  posts  carrying  innumerable 
telegraph  and  telephone  wires.  But  the  houses 
themselves,  on  either  side,  are  still  of  native  arch- 
itecture with  very  few  exceptions.  The  costume 
of  the  people  remains  in  all  essentials  Japanese. 
This  is  invariably  the  case  with  the  women  one 
sees  in  the  streets,  for  the  few  ladies  who  wear 
European  dress  are  of  the  higher  ranks,  who 
are  very  rarely  seen  in  public.  Postmen,  sol- 
diers, and  officials  generally  wear  a  European- 
looking  uniform,  and  merchants  and  others  whose 

6 


82  West  and  by  East 

business  brings  them  into  constant  contact  with 
Europeans  also  wear  M  foreign  "  clothes  or  some 
modification  of  them.  But  this  leaves  the  great 
mass  of  the  people  untouched,  except  often  in 
the  way  of  head-  and  foot-coverings,  the  points  in 
which  Japanese  costume  is  least  satisfactory.  I 
believe  the  years  since  the  Chinese  war  have 
witnessed  a  decided  reaction  in  favour  of  things 
Japanese,  by  enlarging  the  nation's  idea  of  its 
own  importance,  so  that  it  no  longer  feels  inclined 
to  imitate  so  freely ;  for  instance,  the  latest  coin- 
age has  no  English  words  or  writing  on  it,  as  had 
all  the  recent  coins  before  it. 

Gas  is  generally  used  to  light  the  streets,  but 
there  is  a  good  deal  of  electric  light  in  the  larger 
buildings,  and  a  hanging  American  lamp  often 
finds  great  favour  in  private  houses.  In  fact, 
such  a  lamp  and  a  cheap  American  clock  seem 
the  "foreign"  furniture  principally  favoured  by 
the  bulk  of  the  people. 

One  characteristic  of  Tokio  is  the  triple  ring  of 
moats  or  canals  flowing  through  the  city.  The 
two  outer  rings  are  bridged  at  frequent  intervals 
and  the  ramparts  behind  them  cut  by  public 
thoroughfares;  but  within  the  innermost  is  the 
Emperor's  Palace,  where  formerly  stood  the  Sho- 
gun's,  and  into  this  charmed  circle  few  may  pene- 
trate. The  moats  are  broad  and  well  filled,  and 
on  the  inner  side  rise  tall  ramparts  of  great  poly- 


Tokio  83 

gonal  stones,  often  capped  with  drooping  trees. 
That  the  city  is  built  on  several  hills  and  distinctly 
steep  ones  is  soon  apparent  to  anyone  riding  any 
distance  in  a  rickshaw,  and  if  the  rider  does  not 
himself  notice  it,  the  coolie  takes  measures  to 
bring  the  fact  before  him. 

Another  characteristic  of  the  streets,  as  com- 
pared with  those  of  other  Japanese  cities,  is  the 
number  of  soldiers  about.  They  are  small,  rather 
slovenly,  and  are  dressed  in  blue  tunic,  red  trous- 
ers, and  a  kepi,  with  a  star  on  their  collar  like  that 
worn  in  the  Italian  army.  They  may  be  seen 
marching  in  bodies  to  and  from  barracks  or 
wandering  singly  round  the  streets;  so  much  so 
that  it  looks  as  though  the  Japanese  aimed  at 
founding  a  military  monarchy  of  the  modern 
European  type. 

We  spent  the  morning  in  Shiba  Park,  where 
six  Shoguns  are  buried.  The  tombs  themselves 
are  very  plain  and  dignified,  of  bronze  or  stone. 
They  are  in  the  open  and  of  a  similar  shape  to 
those  at  Nikko.  There  is  one  exception,  the 
tomb  of  the  second  Shogun,  which  is  an  immense 
cylinder  of  gold  lacquer  encrusted  with  enamels 
and  crystals,  standing  in  a  small  octagonal  hall. 
In  connection  with  the  tombs  are  three  mortuary 
temples.  They  resemble  the  Nikko  temples  in 
general  plan  and  in  the  general  features  of  decora- 
tion.    But  externally  at   least   they  are  not  so 


84  West  and  by  East 

brilliant.  This  is  partly  because  they  are  covered 
with  black  boards  to  preserve  them  from  the 
weather.  But  where  no  boards  have  been  put 
up — as  in  the  case  of  the  carved  work  of  the 
courtyard  wall — no  attempt  seems  to  have  been 
made  to  repair  the  ravages  of  time  and  wind  and 
rain.  The  colouring  has  vanished  from  the  flowers 
and  birds,  and  in  many  cases  a  tail  or  wing  has 
come  off,  revealing  the  fact  that  the  panel  was  a 
marvel  of  carpentry  no  less  than  of  carving.  I 
believe  the  reason  is  that  these  temples  belong  to 
the  Shogun  who  was  deposed  in  1868,  and  who  is 
still  alive.  He  himself  either  will  not  or  cannot 
keep  them  in  repair,  and  he  will  not  allow  anyone 
else  to  do  it  for  him.  But,  even  as  it  is,  the 
carvings  are  exquisite,  and  the  sobriety  of  tone  is 
perhaps  an  added  beauty,  for  the  Nikko  temples 
certainly  come  rather  near  to  garishness.  This 
at  least  is  where  a  captious  critic  would  attack 
them.  But  if  the  exteriors  are  solemn,  the  in- 
teriors are  magnificent.  The  decoration  is  prin- 
cipally in  lacquer  of  different  sorts  and  colours 
— gold,  and  black,  and  red,  and  red  gold-pow- 
dered. The  effect  is  gorgeous  and  beautiful  at  the 
first  glance,  but  only  after  a  while  does  the  full 
meaning  of  it  all  dawn  on  the  foreigner  so  that 
he  realises  the  endless  patience  necessary  for  the 
comparatively  simple  result  and  the  almost  price- 
less value  that  the  shrines  represent. 


Tokio  85 

We  had  just  had  tiffin  at  the  hotel  when  a 
Japanese  friend  of  mine  came  to  call.  He  had 
been  at  Balliol  with  me,  where  he  had  lived  and 
behaved  in  every  way  as  an  Englishman.  It  had 
struck  me  therefore  as  rather  interesting  that  in 
the  letter  of  welcome  he  had  kindly  written  me 
he  had  excused  himself  from  offering  to  put  me 
up  because  he  lived  in  "  pure  native  style."  But 
when  he  called  on  me  he  was  in  European  dress, 
even  though  he  seemed  to  have  lost  some  of  the 
extreme  neatness  for  which  at  Oxford  he  was 
noticeable.  He  belonged  to  one  of  the  great 
noble  families,  and  his  uncle  had  been  at  Balliol 
before  him.  I  found  him  now  a  husband  and 
father  and  a  baron.  (A  baron  indeed  he  had  been 
at  Balliol,  but  had  not  used  the  title,  "  as  we  were 
all  students  together.")  Not  only  so,  but  he  was 
an  elective  member  of  the  House  of  Peers.  The 
two  highest  orders  of  nobility,  the  princes  and 
the  marquises,  sit  by  right  in  the  upper  house, 
but  of  the  counts,  viscounts,  and  barons,  a  certain 
number — about  one  fifth  of  the  whole — is  elected 
to  sit  for  seven  years. 

This  call  resulted  in  my  accepting  his  invita- 
tion to  tiffin  for  the  next  day. 

On  his  departure  we  sallied  forth,  and  after  wast- 
ing some  time  in  fruitless  discussion  with  curio 
dealers  found  ourselves  at  the  Meiji-za,  where  we 
had  engaged  seats  by  telephone.    This  is  one  of  the 


86  West  and  by  East 

leading  theatres  in  Tokio,  but  although  quite  new 
and  equipped  with  electric  light  and  telephone  all 
its  main  features  are  purely  Japanese.  The  audi- 
torium was  nearly  square,  with  a  flat  ceiling. 
The  proscenium  opening,  long,  low,  and  oblong, 
occupied  almost  one  entire  side.  Round  the 
other  three  sides  was  a  gallery.  The  floor  was 
flat  in  the  centre,  rising  a  little  under  the  gal- 
leries. It  was  innocent  of  seats,  but  covered 
with  cushions  and  cut  up  by  very  low  wooden 
divisions  into  square  boxes  capable  of  holding 
three  Japanese,  or  four  at  a  pinch.  Narrow 
gangways  crossed  the  floor  at  intervals  to  enable 
people  to  reach  their  seats,  but  the  boxes  under 
the  gallery  could  be  entered  direct  from  the  ex- 
ternal corridor.  A  few  chairs  were  kept  in  odd 
corners  for  any  wandering  Europeans,  and  on 
these  we  were  installed  in  a  corner  under  the  gal- 
lery. Just  before  us  ran  a  broad  gangway  three 
or  four  feet  from  the  floor — that  is,  just  above  the 
ordinary  line  of  sight  of  the  audience — stretching 
from  the  stage  to  the  back  of  the  theatre.  This 
represented  a  road,  and  was  therefore  useful  for 
processions  or  entrances  from  the  distant  country. 
Sometimes  the  actor  paused  half-way  on  this 
road  to  soliloquise,  while  all  the  audience  turned 
to  face  him.  At  one  side  of  the  stage  an  orches- 
tra was  concealed  which  kept  up  a  continuous 
maddening   drumming   and  twanging.     On  the 


Tokio  S7 

opposite  side  in  a  kind  of  balcony  sat  two  men, 
one  of  whom  played  a  sort  of  guitar  while  the 
other  sang  the  thoughts  which  were  supposed  to 
crowd  through  the  mind  of  the  actor  as  he  paced 
the  stage  alone  at  some  critical  situation.  This 
singing  was  also  rather  tiring.  It  was  all  recita- 
tive without  any  melody,  sung  with  tremendous 
tremolo  and  often  falsetto. 

As  soon  as  we  were  seated,  Matsuda  provided 
us  with  tea  and  cake.  One  play  occupies  the 
whole  of  a  day,  and  therefore  arrangements  are 
made  with  a  neighbouring  tea-house  by  which 
any  and  all  meals  can  be  served  not  only  in  the 
theatre  but  in  one's  own  box.  A  Japanese  will 
accordingly  send  or  take  his  wife  and  family  to  the 
theatre  in  the  morning,  and  there  they  will  remain 
all  day.  In  the  evening  a  bill  is  presented  —  so 
much  for  seats,  so  much  for  programmes,  so 
much  for  food,  so  much  for  tea,  and  so  much  for 
fire,  that  is,  live  coals  in  a  brazier  supplied  for  the 
use  of  smokers.  Both  men  and  women  smoke, 
and  smoke  continuously.  This  bill  is  —  at  this 
particular  theatre  at  any  rate  —  large  enough  to 
make  the  day's  entertainment  of  the  nature  of 
a  luxury. 

The  audience  was  mainly  composed  of  women, 
apparently  of  the  upper  classes,  and  children  with 
gay  clothes  and  the  most  demure  and  perfect 
manners.     There  was  much  calling  and  returning 


88  West  and  by  East 

of  calls  from  box  to  box,  and  we  were  greatly 
taken  with  the  pretty  little  ways  of  the  small 
ladies.  There  were  profuse  bows  and  smiles,  a 
little  talk,  a  little  tea,  perhaps  a  little  pipe,  more 
bows  and  smiles,  and  then  the  visitor  departed ; 
sometimes,  if  very  tiny,  with  the  judicious  assist- 
ance of  the  theatre  attendants. 

We  had  come  specially  to  Meiji-za  to  see 
Danjeiro  act.  Danjeiro  is  rather  a  dynastic  than 
a  personal  name,  and  the  name  and  prestige  de- 
scend from  theatrical  generation  to  generation, 
so  that  Danjeiro  is  always  among  the  first,  if  not 
the  first,  of  Japanese  actors.  Unhappily  for  us, 
we  had  come  too  late  to  see  his  early  appearance, 
and  though  we  stayed  as  long  as  possible  he  did 
not  come  on  again  before  we  left.  But  even 
without  Danjeiro  we  enjoyed  the  play.  The 
actors  were  all  male,  as  men  and  women  do  not 
act  together  in  Japan,  but  the  female  parts  were 
very  creditably  filled  considering.  The  scenery 
was  effective  and  pretty,  though  there  was  no  at- 
tempt at  landscapes  and  no  painted  scenes.  It 
was  all  carpenter's  work,  house-fronts,  interiors, 
etc.,  the  upper  part  of  the  back  of  the  stage  being 
filled  in  with  hanging  drapery.  The  whole  stage 
was  arranged  so  as  to  revolve.  Therefore  while 
one  scene  was  in  progress  in  front  another  was 
being  set  behind,  and  at  the  proper  moment  the 
whole  affair  revolved,  carrying  off  the  old  scene 


Tokio  89 

(and  sometimes  the  actors  as  well),  and  revealing 
a  fresh  one.  Often  the  stage  hands  had  to  crawl 
in  to  give  some  finishing  touch.  They  wore  black 
hoods  and  cloaks  and,  I  believe,  are  considered 
invisible. 

Though  Matsuda  supplied  a  running  explana- 
tion of  the  play,  I  cannot  say  much  as  to  its 
story.  The  scene  was  laid  in  old  Japan  —  i.  e., 
Japan  before  1868  —  and  the  actors  wore  old- 
fashioned  clothes  and  coiffures.  In  one  scene, 
representing  an  entertainment  before  a  daimio, 
an  extraordinary  figure  appeared,  dressed  in 
white,  with  a  thick  mass  of  bright-red  hair  falling 
right  to  the  ground.  This  figure  danced,  and 
when  by  great  exertion  it  succeeded  in  jerking 
this  mass  of  hair  from  back  to  front  and  then 
again  to  back,  the  delight  of  the  audience  was 
unbounded.  In  another  scene  the  daimio  arrives 
at  home  with  a  gaily  equipped  train  of  followers. 
Among  them  is  a  servant  whose  duty  it  is  to 
carry  a  heavy  ornamental  spear.  This  drudgery 
is  distasteful  to  him,  and  at  night  he  breaks  into 
the  armoury,  hews  the  spear  in  two,  and  flies. 
His  wife  and  daughter  following  in  search  of  him 
take  situations  as  waitresses  in  a  saki  shop.  To 
this  shop  the  husband  comes  one  day  with  some 
boon  companions,  and  a  very  animated  scene  fol- 
lows as  bottle  after  bottle  of  saki  is  consumed. 
The   daughter   suddenly   recognises   her   father, 


90  West  and  by  East 

and  in  her  surprise  drops  the  tray  she  carries, 
and  brings  down  on  herself  the  anger  of  the 
manageress. 

When  the  man  leaves  the  shop,  a  good  deal  the 
worse  for  saki,  his  womankind  follow  him,  and  an 
interview  takes  place,  evidently  of  an  affecting 
nature.  Not  only  did  the  actors  weep,  but  the 
audience  which  had  followed  the  play  carefully, 
taking  up  all  the  jokes,  was  now  dissolved  in 
tears.  There  was  hardly  a  woman  in  the  theatre 
but  had  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  and  the 
house  was  full  of  the  sound  of  weeping.  After 
this  I  forget  the  drift  of  the  story — perhaps  that 
was  where  we  left.  The  curtain  does  not  fall  ; 
it  is  drawn  across  from  one  side  to  the  other  by  a 
man  running,  holding  the  end.  Some  of  these 
curtains  are  decorated  in  fine,  bold  designs,  and 
are  presents  to  a  favourite  actor,  and  so  go  on 
tour  with  him  from  place  to  place. 

We  thought  the  acting  was  excellent,  and, 
though  of  course  understanding  not  a  word,  could 
generally  make  out  what  was  happening — at  least 
with  Matsuda's  help. 

The  hotel  this  evening  was  quite  lively :  the 
billiard-room  was  full  of  middies  from  a  British 
man-of-war,  and  they  were  not  noiseless ;  a  South 
American  Consulate  had  its  headquarters  in  the 
hotel,  and  the  ladies  of  the  Consul's  family  and 
their  friends  filled  the  rooms  with  gaiety ;  in  an- 


Tokio  91 

other  room  a  Japanese  conjuror  performed  some 
tricks,  which  were  preceded  by  endless  attitudes 
and  swaggering,  accompanied  by  an  intolerable 
twanging  and  drumming  from  behind  a  curtain, 
and  fell  rather  flat  in  the  end. 

On  Thursday  morning  we  commenced  with 
the  tombs  of  the  forty-seven  Ronins.  These  are 
heroes  of  Japanese  legend,  famous  because  of 
their  fidelity  to  their  dead  leader  and  the  venge- 
ance they  finally  took  on  his  murderer.  They 
all  lie  in  a  little  shady  graveyard,  each  with  a 
small  tombstone.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  are 
forty-eight  such  tombstones,  and  this  we  pointed 
out  to  Matsuda.  He  was  astonished,  but  could 
give  no  explanation,  nor  can  I  offer  one. 

From  here  a  long  trot  took  us  to  Ueno  Park, 
celebrated  for  its  cherry-blossoms  in  the  spring, 
and  for  the  fine  view  of  the  city  it  commands  all 
the  year  round.  Here  for  the  first  time  since 
landing  were  we  made  aware  of  our  foreign 
nationality  by  the  crowd  of  small  children  follow- 
ing and  staring.  In  this  park  is  the  Government 
Museum,  a  large  brick  building,  light,  airy,  and 
well  arranged.  The  rooms  devoted  to  lacquer 
are  especially  interesting,  of  which  certain  speci- 
mens are  of  very  great  beauty. 

I  had  a  long  ride  from  Ueno  Park  to  my 
friend's  house,  winding  and  twisting  through 
many  narrow  streets  till  I  began  to  think  my 


92  West  and  by  East 

coolie  had  intentionally  or  unintentionally  lost 
his  way.  However,  at  length  we  turned  into  a 
small  courtyard  before  a  house  which,  for  Japan, 
was  quite  large.  I  found  my  host — clad  in  native 
dress,  which  he  wears  at  home  because  of  its  com- 
fort— waiting  at  the  threshold.  He  furnished  me 
with  felt  slippers  to  wear  instead  of  boots,  and 
then  took  me  in  and  introduced  me  to  his  brother, 
who  was  also  in  Japanese  dress  and  who  spoke 
hardly  any  English,  and  to  a  young  professor  of 
the  Tokio  University,  wearing  European  clothes. 
I  discovered  afterwards  that  he  was  M.A.,  Oxon. ; 
M.A.,  Ph.D.,  Leipsic.  Madame  la  Baronne  I 
never  saw,  either  because  she  spoke  no  English, 
or  because  some  traces  of  the  semi-Oriental 
seclusion  of  one's  womenkind  still  survived  in 
the  household.  Though  the  house  itself  was 
thoroughly  Japanese,  the  three  downstairs  rooms 
contained  a  good  deal  of  European  furniture. 
There  were  sofas  and  tables  and  chairs,  and  book- 
cases full  of  English  books,  side  by  side  with 
Japanese  bronzes,  kakemonos,  and  brocades. 
Framed  photographs  of  Oxford  groups  hung  on 
the  paper  walls.  The  tiffin  was  excellent,  even 
elaborate.  The  servants  were  the  only  thing  that 
recalled  one  to  Japan.  I  had  wondered  on  my 
way  to  the  house  if  the  cooking  would  be  Japan- 
ese, and  had  half  hoped  it  would.  As  I  learnt 
afterwards,  it  was  as  well  for  me  it  was  not,  or 


Tokio  93 

the  hearty  appetite  I  arrived  with  would  have 
also  departed  with  me  unabated. 

After  tiffin  I  was  shown  some  photos  which  my 
host's  brother  had  taken — principally  of  the  Baron 
in  every  variety  of  costume.  He  evidently  was  an 
expert  photographer.  Before  I  left  my  friend 
showed  me  his  garden — the  joy  of  his  heart,  but 
very  small  according  to  our  ideas — and  the  upper 
part  of  the  house.  I  then  saw  to  what  the  ex- 
pression, **  pure  native  style,"  referred,  for  the 
bedrooms  were  furnished  with  little  else  than  a 
vase  of  flowers. 

The  rest  of  the  afternoon  I  spent  with  Mr. 
Montreal  in  Naka-dori,  a  street  full  of  small  curio 
shops.  We  strolled  from  one  shop  to  another 
with  the  patient  Matsuda  at  our  elbow,  the  rick- 
shaws following,  and  a  great  accompanying  train 
of  children.  At  each  shop  we  entered  through 
the  open  front  and  took  our  seat  upon  the  floor, 
which  is  raised  about  eighteen  inches  above  the 
pavement.  The  proprietor  sat  in  a  clear  space 
surrounded  by  a  circle  of  his  wares  reaching  from 
floor  to  ceiling  —  like  a  spider  in  his  web.  If  we 
fancied  anything  he  reached  it  down  for  our  in- 
spection, and  if  he  thought  we  really  meant 
business  he  sent  his  boy  to  the  back  regions, 
where  in  Japanese  shops  the  best  things  always 
lie  hidden.  The  boy  presently  returned  with  his 
arms  full  of  neat  wooden  boxes.     From  the  boxes 


94  West  and  by  East 

came  rolls  and  bags  of  brocade  and  silk,  and  from 
them  the  choice  treasures  of  the  establishment. 
Then  ensued  endless  chaffering,  ending  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten  in  no  business  done. 

The  crowd  of  children  watched  all  these  pro- 
ceedings with  keen  interest.  For  their  benefit 
Mr.  Montreal  did  some  simple  tricks  of  sleight- 
of-hand.  The  apparent  swallowing  of  a  coin  was 
too  much  for  one  small  boy  who  was  carrying  on 
his  back  another  not  much  smaller.  He  turned 
and  fled  precipitately,  evidently  convinced  that 
we  were  more,  or  less,  than  human. 

Friday  was  a  day  of  pouring  rain.  The  moats 
ran  swift  and  turbid  under  the  bridges  and  threat- 
ened to  overflow  their  banks.  The  rickshawmen 
paddled  about  ankle-deep  in  mud  and  water. 
We  ventured  out  to  see  the  workshops  of  a 
famous  bronze-worker,  but  saw  little  for  our 
pains.  The  Baron  came  to  tiffin  with  us  at  the 
hotel,  this  time  in  a  frock  coat,  and  in  the  after- 
noon we  took  the  train  for  Yokohama,  which 
seemed  to  us  now  an  old  familiar  friend. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MATSUDA   ENTERTAINS 

WE  had  now  returned  to  our  base  of  supplies, 
and  spent  Saturday  in  shopping,  visiting 
the  bank,  inquiring  for  letters,  and  paying  calls. 

On  Sunday  I  went  up  the  Bluff  for  what  was 
called  tiffin,  but  was  really  the  regulation  middle- 
day  English  Sunday  dinner.  There  was  the 
English  dining-room  and  the  roast  beef,  and  a 
contingent  of  little  boys  in  sailor  suits,  full  of 
the  idea  of  going  Home  where  they  had  never 
been.  Even  the  Japanese  boy  and  the  curry 
after  the  beef  could  hardly  persuade  me  for  a 
time  that  I  was  not  back  in  England. 

When  I  rejoined  my  party  at  the  hotel  we  went 
first  to  secure  berths  at  the  steamship  office  on  a 
steamer  leaving  the  next  day  for  Kob£,  as  the 
railway  was  still  broken.  Matsuda  was  very 
anxious  that  we  should  then  come  to  his  house 
for  tea.  He  accordingly  slipped  off  down  a  side 
street  after  instructing  our  coolies  to  take  us  by  a 
roundabout  route,  and  was  by  this  manoeuvre 
able  to  be  waiting  on  his  own  threshold  wreathed 

95 


96  West  and  by  East 

in  smiles  to  welcome  us.  The  house  was  a  two- 
storied  one,  of  a  fair  size,  as  such  things  go  in 
Japan.  Extreme  simplicity  and  refinement  were 
everywhere  noticeable.  A  couple  of  painted 
scrolls  on  the  walls,  a  vase  of  flowers  in  a  recess, 
a  frieze  between  the  rooms  of  cryptomeria  wood 
so  long  buried  that  the  softer  parts  had  rotted 
away,  leaving  a  sort  of  natural  fretwork, —  these 
were  almost  the  only  decorations,  or,  indeed, 
furniture,  of  the  lower  floor.  Matsuda  intro- 
duced us  to  his  wife,  a  lady  of  uncertain  age  and 
subdued  demeanour,  his  daughter,  a  pretty  girl 
of  about  sixteen,  and  a  small  son  who,  I  fancy, 
was  virtual,  if  not  titular,  head  of  the  household. 
He  showed  us  his  garden  behind,  a  plot  of 
ground  probably  not  more  than  ten  feet  by 
twenty,  backed  by  a  high  wall.  Yet  in  it  was 
room  found  for  an  elaborate  arrangement  of 
stepping-stones,  several  pine  trees,  one  or  two 
large  boulders,  and  a  stone  lantern  —  these  are 
the  main  constituents  of  the  average  Japanese  gar- 
den, with,  if  possible,  water  and  goldfish  added. 
At  one  end  of  the  garden  the  house  projected 
a  tiny  room — the  "  tea-ceremony  "  room.  Now 
to  have  a  "  tea-ceremony  "  room  seems  in  Japan 
to  confer  a  social  distinction  such  as  the  posses- 
sion of  a  haunted  room  might  give  in  England. 
In  all  Yokohama  there  are  but  three.  Just  what 
the  '*  tea-ceremony  "  is  it  is  difficult  to  ascertain. 


Matsuda  Entertains  97 

It  appears  to  include  the  whole  code  of  good 
manners  and  household  management.  Its  rules 
govern  the  arrangement  of  flowers  —  no  casual 
matter,  as  each  month  has  its  own  flower,  and 
each  flower  a  vase  appropriate  in  size,  shape,  and 
material.  It  teaches  the  graceful  way  to  kneel 
down  or  to  get  up.  Every  action  of  a  well-bred 
Japanese  is  governed  by  elaborate  rules  of  eti- 
quette founded  on  immemorial  custom,  but  the 
end  and  aim  of  them  all  is  a  refined  simplicity. 
So  perfectly  is  this  object  attained  that  it  takes 
some  time  to  find  out  that  this  simplicity  is  highly 
artificial,  and  not  spontaneous. 

This  Japanese  characteristic  is  strikingly  illus- 
trated in  the  M  tea- ceremony."  This  is  the 
actual  ceremonial  drinking  of  tea  from  which 
the  whole  system  takes  its  name.  Matsuda's 
daughter  performed  some  parts  of  it  for  us.  I 
think  the  full  course  of  study  required  to  become 
perfect  in  all  points  is  five  years,  and  she  had 
been  but  three.  Matsuda  often  told  us  as  the 
ceremony  progressed  how  she  had  laid  herself 
open  to  the  ridicule  of  the  initiated  by  some 
trifling  error  of  omission  or  commission.  Prob- 
ably to  us  the  action  had  seemed  quite  accidental 
and  unimportant. 

The  size  and  shape  of  the  room  are  fixed  within 
certain  limits;  at  the  best  it  is  a  tiny  room.  Part 
of  the  ceiling  is  flat  and  part  sloping.    The  sloping 


98  West  and  by  East 

part  is  of  bamboo,  and  on  the  under  side  the 
bamboos,  instead  of  lying  horizontal  and  parallel, 
run  together  in  apparent  confusion.  But  once  a 
Shogun  on  his  travels  stopped  at  a  house  where 
he  expressed  a  desire  for  a  cup  of  tea  with  all 
the  due  ceremony.  For  so  exalted  a  personage 
a  new  room  had  to  be  built,  and  as  the  request 
was  apparently  unexpected,  the  carpenters  in 
their  haste  fastened  the  bamboos  awry.  Luckily, 
the  effect  pleased  the  great  man,  so  that  ever 
since  all  tea-rooms,  if  properly  built,  imitate  it. 
The  floor,  of  course,  is  matted,  and  destitute  of 
furniture.  There  are  three  doors,  one  from  the 
house  used  by  the  tea-maker,  a  very  low  one 
from  the  garden  for  the  host,  and  beside  it  a 
larger  one  for  his  honoured  guests.  The  way  to 
it  is  by  the  stepping-stones,  which,  taken  in  a  cer- 
tain order,  lead  first  to  a  boulder  with  a  hollow  in  it 
full  of  water  where  the  guest  may  wash  his  hands, 
and  then  to  the  tea-room.  We  were  allowed  to 
use  the  honourable  doorway,  though,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  owing  to  the  limited  size  of  the  room, 
Mr.  Montreal  and  I  never  got  more  than  half- 
way in. 

The  ceremony  is  lengthy,  and  varies  with  the 
time  of  the  year,  each  of  the  four  seasons  requir- 
ing a  different  equipage  of  kettles,  cups,  etc. 
To  describe  it  all  accurately  would  need  an  ex- 
pert, but  the  outlines  are  these :  The  brazier  of 


Matsuda  Entertains  99 

live  coals  is  ready  in  the  room,  but  almost  all  the 
other  things  have  to  be  brought  in  one  by  one. 
The  fire  is  stirred  and  the  kettle  put  on  to  boil. 
The  kettle  is  lifted  by  rings  which  fit  into  hooks 
at  either  side,  and  when  not  in  use  are  laid  in 
their  particular  place.  The  cups  are  not  at  all 
like  the  common  ideal  of  Japanese  teacups. 
They  are  really  fair-sized  bowls  of  glazed  earthen- 
ware, not  quite  round,  but  moulded  so  as  to  fit 
easily  the  drinker's  encircling  hands.  The  tea  is 
in  a  tiny  jar  shaped  like  the  oil  jars  in  the  story 
of  the  Forty  Thieves.  It  is  wrapped  in  a  little 
silk  bag  with  a  silk  cord,  and  is  stopped  with  a 
tiny  lid.  These  adjuncts  are  brought  in  while 
the  water  is  being  heated,  and  when  the  water  is 
hot  a  little  tea  is  taken  from  the  jar  and  put  into 
the  bowl  by  a  slender  bamboo  spoon,  as  nothing 
of  metal  may  touch  it.  The  tea  itself  —  the 
centre  and  cause  of  all  this  ritual — is  a  fine,  light- 
brown  powder.  The  hot  water  is  poured  on  to 
the  tea  in  the  bowl  direct,  and  then  the  mixture 
is  beaten  up  with  a  bamboo  implement  like  a 
shaving-brush.  The  tea  is  then  ready  to  drink, 
and  the  bowl  passes  round  the  circle.  Each  per- 
son in  turn  drinks  from  it.  If  more  than  one  cup 
of  tea  is  needed  another  bowl  will  be  used,  but 
each  bowl  goes  the  full  round.  Matsuda's  wife 
was  kind  enough  to  show  us  the  proper  way  to 
hold  the  cup,  the  proper  way  to  drink,  and  the 


ioo  West  and  by  East 

proper  bows  to  make.  Before  the  tea  is  ready- 
each  person  is  provided  with  a  paper  napkin  and 
a  small,  sweet  rice-cake.  If  he  feels  disposed  to 
eat  his  cake  he  does  so  when  the  tea  is  served ;  if 
not,  he  keeps  it  wrapped  in  his  paper  napkin. 
But  to  refuse  one  altogether  is  accounted  rude. 
When  the  tea  is  drunk  the  maker  takes  away,  one 
by  one,  the  implements  with  the  same  pomp  with 
which  they  entered,  but  some  at  least  are  left  for 
a  while  that  the  company  may  examine  them  and 
comment  on  their  beauty.  This  is  expected  of 
one's  politeness,  and  it  must  be  a  relief  to  have 
the  chance  of  saying  anything  after  the  solemn 
silence  in  which  the  whole  ceremony  must  be 
watched.  These  bare  facts  may  make  the  whole 
thing  appear  stupid.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  is  most 
dainty  and  charming.  To  begin  with,  it  was  per- 
formed by  a  pretty  Japanese  girl,  there  was  no 
noise  and  no  haste,  and  all  the  movements  were 
graceful.  So  many  steps  must  be  taken  at  each 
entrance,  and  then  kneel  down ;  so  many  steps  at 
each  exit.  Each  thing  must  come  in  in  proper 
order.  Each  thing  must  be  wiped  before  and 
after  using  with  a  little  square  of  red  silk,  and 
this  itself  must  be  stretched  and  then  folded  in 
just  the  exact  way  after  each  use,  and  then 
tucked  into  the  girdle.  Perhaps  it  casts  a  kind 
of  spell  over  the  spectator,  the  charm  "  of  woven 
paces  and  of  waving  hands."     Drinking  of  tea 


Matsuda  Entertains  ici 

with  all  this  ceremony  is  a  form  of  hospitality  in 
Japan,  and  could  only  be  tolerated  in  such  a 
country,  where  everyone  is  artistic  and  no  one 
values  time. 

When  we  had  seen  parts  of  the  ceremony  ap- 
propriate to  various  seasons  we  returned  to  the 
house,  and  there  to  our  surprise  found  an  ortho- 
dox afternoon  tea  awaiting  us  —  painted  cups 
with  handles,  silver  spoons,  each  topped  with  a 
model  of  an  ancient  statue,  the  gift  of  a  former 
employer,  sponge  cake,  and  tea  in  a  teapot.  The 
table  was  only  about  eight  inches  high,  and  we 
sat  around  it  on  cushions  on  the  floor.  After  a 
while  lights  were  brought  in,  in  paper  lanterns 
standing  about  three  feet  high.  Matsuda  brought 
out  for  our  inspection  his  choice  treasures  of  lac- 
quer and  pottery.  Like  a  true  Japanese,  he  kept 
them  in  their  boxes  and  silk  wrappings,  piled  in  a 
closet  whence  they  only  emerged  on  great  oc- 
casions. His  daughter  added  to  our  obligations 
towards  her  by  playing  on  the  koto,  a  sort  of 
zither,  perhaps  five  feet  long,  with  twelve  or 
thirteen  strings.  The  player  wears  ivory  shields 
on  the  thumb  and  first  two  fingers  of  the  right 
hand  and  with  these  strikes  the  strings,  stopping 
with  the  left  hand.  The  sound  is  very  melod- 
ious, though  we  could  not  follow  the  tune. 

We  found  the  whole  visit  so  fascinating  that 
we   could    hardly    persuade   ourselves   to   come 


ibil  XVest  and  by  East 

away.  Matsuma  thus  added  to  his  repertoire 
another  role — the  charming  host.  All  through 
our  visit  he  treated  us  not  as  employers  but  as 
personal  friends,  but  with  no  familiarity,  with 
perfect  politeness  but  no  trace  of  obsequiousness. 
But  when  we  met  next  day  he  was  again  our 
guide  but  not  our  host.  Surely  the  Japanese 
manners  are  perfect. 


CHAPTER  IX 

MIYANOSHITA 

1WAS  now  beginning  to  be  rather  pressed  for 
time,  so  that  instead  of  waiting  for  the  Gaelic 
or  the  Japanese  mail  boat,  both  of  which  left  on 
Tuesday  for  Kob6,  we  had  engaged  berths  on  a 
Japanese  boat  sailing  on  Monday.  Matsuda  as- 
sured us  she  was  new,  just  out  from  England, 
and  officered  by  Europeans.  On  the  latter  point 
we  were  rather  particular  because  Japanese  sailors 
have  not  a  good  name  as  regards  their  obedience 
to  officers  of  their  own  race.  On  the  Sunday  we 
had  secured  berths  very  easily,  wondering  rather 
at  the  very  low  sum  asked.  Our  suspicions  were 
further  aroused  when  Matsuda  told  us  that  the 
steamship  people  had  asked  him  whether  we 
would  want  European  or  Japanese  food.  It 
showed  that  this  boat  did  not  very  often  take 
Europeans. 

But  Monday  morning  found  us  and  our  belong- 
ings on  board  the  hotel  launch,  threading  our 
way  in  brilliant  weather  through  the  shipping  of 
the   harbour.      There   seemed    every  chance  of 

103 


104  West  and  by  East 

a  pleasant  passage.  Its  duration  varies  from 
twenty-four  to  thirty-six  hours,  according  to  the 
speed  of  the  boat.  But  we  passed  one  by  one  all 
the  steamers  with  any  claim  to  respectability,  and 
finally  came  alongside  of  a  dirty  little  steamer  of 
some  one  thousand  tons,  a  regular  cargo  tramp  in 
appearance.  She  was  still  receiving  cargo,  but, 
with  only  half  an  hour  left  till  sailing  time,  showed 
half  her  propeller  above  water, — in  itself  no  very 
encouraging  sign,  for  the  voyage  to  Kobe*  (like 
the  Channel  crossing)  is  proverbially  choppy. 
The  main-deck  was  horribly  dirty,  covered  with 
scraps  of  matting  from  the  wrappings  of  the 
cargo,  and  with  half-naked  coolies.  Amidships 
was  a  small  upper  deck,  and  under  it  a  deck- 
house in  the  middle  of  the  ship,  an  alleyway  on 
each  side,  and  then  two  narrow  houses  coming 
flush  with  the  bulwarks.  In  the  starboard  slip  of 
deck-house  were  our  cabins.  There  were  two  of 
them,  and  two  berths  in  each.  I  suppose  there 
were  two  similar  rooms  on  the  port  side,  so  her 
full  complement  of  first-class  passengers  would 
seem  to  be  eight.  The  berths  were  very  narrow 
shelves  fixed  to  the  side  of  the  ship.  The  rooms 
were  filled  with  a  horrible  mixture  of  smells  from 
the  engines,  the  galley,  and  elsewhere,  and  were 
intolerably  hot.  We  took  one  glance  at  the  dis- 
reputable oil-lamp,  at  the  bill  of  fare  pinned  up 
behind  the  door  and  beginning  Pea-soup,  at  the 


Miyanoshita  105 

upper  deck,  where  a  wilderness  of  boats  and  ven- 
tilating cowls  left  only  just  room  for  a  couple  of 
wicker  chairs.  Then  we  decided  that  as  we  were 
travelling  for  pleasure  even  the  joy  of  a  new  ex- 
perience would  not  detain  us  longer  on  the  ship. 
In  about  five  minutes  after  we  had  boarded  her 
we  went  over  the  side  again  into  the  launch, 
which  was  still  waiting.  Just  as  we  were  leaving 
we  did  see  one  European  officer — the  others  we 
had  seen  were  Japanese.  This  one  was  probably 
an  engineer,  and  was  by  no  means  prepossessing. 
Our  luggage  speedily  followed  us  and  a  crest- 
fallen guide.  We  heard  afterwards  that  she  was 
really  a  cargo  boat,  and  that  people  had  felt  sur- 
prise at  our  going  in  her,  but  that  it  was  not 
etiquette  to  interfere  with  a  guide's  arrangements. 
Alas,  that  even  a  licensed  member  of  the  Guides' 
Association  should  not  be  infallible! 

But  we  did  not  feel  our  expedition  across  the 
harbour  altogether  lost  time,  because  our  escape 
from  such  dirt,  confusion,  and  smells,  and  from  a 
day  and  night  of  extreme  discomfort,  seemed  to 
throw  a  glamour  over  all  the  rest  of  the  day.  More- 
over, the  steamship  people  returned  us  our  money 
in  full  without  showing  the  slightest  surprise — per- 
haps our  reappearance  was  not  wholly  unexpected* 

Instead  of  going  to  Kobe  we  decided  —  as  we 
were  all  packed  up — to  go  to  Miyanoshita.  This 
village  lies   about   thirty-five  miles  from  Yoko- 


io6  West  and  by  East 

hama,  and  is  a  favourite  resort  of  the  foreign 
residents  because  of  its  fine  hotel,  its  natural 
warm  baths,  beautiful  scenery,  and  comparative 
proximity  to  Fuji  —  that  coy  mountain  supposed 
to  be  visible  from  Yokohama,  but  of  which  we 
had  not  had  a  glimpse. 

After  lunch  we  started  along  the  same  route 
as  we  had  taken  to  Kamakura  —  the  Tokaido 
Railway.  But  now  there  was  bright  sunshine,  so 
that  the  country  looked  much  prettier.  An  hour 
and  a  half  in  the  train  brought  us  to  Kozu,  where 
we  changed  into  little  two-horse  trams,  and 
jogged  off  for  another  hour.  The  road  was  a 
well-made  one,  crossing  from  side  to  side  of  a 
valley  which  narrowed  rapidly  as  we  steadily  as- 
cended. Sometimes  we  passed  long  straggling 
villages,  in  one  of  which  we  changed  horses.  At 
Yumoto  of  Hakone,  not  Nikko,  where  the  tram- 
line ended,  we  took  to  rickshaws.  We  had  to  walk 
some  little  distance  to  find  them,  because  a  recent 
landslip  had  carried  away  a  bridge,  and  the  tempo- 
rary way  of  crossing  the  stream  was  not  practicable 
for  rickshaws.  The  other  members  of  the  party 
were  soon  put  into  their  traps  and  trundled  off,  but 
I  thought  I  should  never  get  mine.  The  remain- 
ing coolies  apparently  considered  themselves  en- 
gaged to  some  people  who  were  following  us,  and 
it  was  only  after  a  tremendous  argument,  which 
I  thought  at  times  would  come  to  blows,  that 


Miyanoshita  107 

Matsuda  carried  the  day  and  I  won  my  seat. 
The  road  was  almost  all  uphill  and  often  very 
rough,  so  that  each  rickshaw  had  three  coolies, 
who  lifted  it  bodily  over  the  inequalities.  The 
country  was  hilly  and  rather  wild,  but  darkness 
came  down  before  we  reached  the  hotel.  Owing 
to  the  complicated  nature  of  the  journey  it  takes 
some  four  and  a  half  hours  to  cover  the  thirty- 
five  miles. 

The  hotel  Fuji-ya,  kept  by  a  Japanese  but  on 
European  lines,  is  set  on  the  side  of  a  hill.  It  is 
often  said  to  be  the  best  hotel  in  Japan.  Its 
architecture  is  a  happy  mixture  of  Western  and 
native  styles,  and  its  success  has  prompted  it  to 
send  two  long,  low  wings  curling  and  twisting 
down  the  hillside  till  they  almost  meet.  So  that 
my  room  in  the  extreme  end  of  one  wing  was 
perhaps  seventy-five  yards  from  the  billiard-room 
in  the  end  of  the  other  wing  if  I  went  across  the 
garden,  but  two  hundred  by  way  of  the  house. 
All  the  doors  and  windows  opened  out  into  en- 
circling corridors,  a  device  which  made  the  rooms 
rather  dark,  but  cool  in  summer.  The  way  from 
my  room  to  the  dining-room  lay  through  the 
kitchen,  which  seemed  to  no  one  but  myself  in 
the  least  odd. 

The  sights  of  Miyanoshita  are  natural  and  not 
architectural,  and  the  first  of  them  which  we 
visited  was  Lake  Hakone.     The  south  end  of  the 


108  West  and  by  East 

lake,  where  the  village  of  Hakone  lies,  is  some 
five  or  six  miles  from  Miyanoshita.  It  was  a 
pretty  walk  among  the  hills,  but  not  very  memora- 
ble, except  that  at  one  place  there  is  a  colossal 
Buddha  cut  in  low  relief  in  the  solid  rock,  and 
at  another  a  splendid  view  in  the  direction  of 
Tokio  can  be  obtained.  In  fact,  your  guides  do 
not  allow  you  to  proceed  till  you  have  obtained 
it.  The  ladies  went  in  carrying  chairs,  each  with 
four  coolies.  These  are  regular  armchairs  slung 
on  two  poles,  and  are  more  practicable  than 
kagos  for  Europeans.  I  tried  one  for  a  little,  but 
found  the  motion  very  quick  and  jolty.  Mr. 
Montreal  and  I  tied  straw  sandals  under  our 
boots  and  found  them  excellent  in  preventing 
slipping.  Matsuda  had  a  kago,  but  at  starting 
walked  ahead  of  it,  though  when  the  pull  came 
uphill  he  rode  ;  walking  was  not  one  of  his 
accomplishments. 

The  path  climbed  steadily  till  we  came  sud- 
denly in  view  of  the  lake  lying  far  below  us.  But 
the  hills  were  covered  with  threatening  clouds, 
and  Fuji,  the  chief  glory  of  the  view,  absolutely 
invisible.  Then  we  descended  abruptly  to  the 
level  of  the  lake,  through  the  broad,  straggling 
village  street  and  past  a  summer  palace  of  the 
Emperor's.  It  is  built  on  a  peninsula  in  the  lake, 
looks  like  an  overgrown  shooting-box,  and  has 
been  disused  for  years.     A  short  walk  along  the 


Miyanoshita  109 

old  Tokaido  road,  where  the  glory  of  the  crypto- 
meria  overhead  atoned  for  the  very  indifferent 
surface  underfoot,  brought  us  to  a  tea-house  on 
the  edge  of  the  lake,  and  tiffin.  We,  of  course, 
had  had  to  stop  once  or  twice  at  tea-houses  en 
route,  but  this  was  inevitable  on  every  expedition. 
As  at  Chuzenji,  this  was  a  picnic  lunch  of  pro- 
visions we  had  brought  with  us,  eaten  in  a  veranda 
upstairs  commanding  a  view  of  the  lake  and  of 
the  clouds,  behind  which  Fuji  lay  hidden.  In 
spite  of  Matsuda's  protests  that  the  path  was  a 
very  bad  one,  we  decided  to  sail  down  the  lake — 
about  four  miles — and  then  to  walk  back  by  way 
of  Ojigoku,  or  "  Big  Hell."  Accordingly,  after 
tiffin,  two  sampans  were  brought  round.  Into 
one  the  ladies  were  put  with  their  chairs,  while 
Mr.  Montreal  and  I  lay  on  mats  athwartships, 
and  owing  to  the  breadth  of  the  beam  were  quite 
comfortable.  In  the  other  boat  were  the  chair 
coolies.  We  had  two  rowers  and  a  lateen  sail. 
The  sampan  has  a  soothing,  swaying  motion  like 
a  gondola's,  and  the  hour's  sail  would  have  been 
very  pleasant  if  it  had  not  come  on  to  rain  fiercely 
when  we  were  about  half-way  across,  which  sent 
us  creeping  under  wraps  and  mats.  At  the  land- 
ing was  a  tumble-down  hut  full  of  smoke  from  a 
blazing  fire,  where  we  waited  a  little  to  see  if  the 
rain  would  hold  up,  but  as  it  showed  no  signs  of 
doing  so  we  started  off  again.     The  path  was 


no  West  and  by  East 

good,  running  between  fields  and  rising  gently 
till  we  came  to  the  little  bathing  village  of  Ubago. 
Then  it  degenerated  sadly.  It  became  narrow 
and  steep,  closely  overhung  on  either  side  with 
dripping  bushes.  The  rain  had  washed  away  the 
centre  of  the  path,  leaving  a  deep  furrow  with 
sides  of  sloping,  slimy  mud,  so  that  even  with 
straw  sandals  and  the  help  of  friendly  stones  it 
was  difficult  to  always  stand  upright.  How  the 
coolies  managed  to  carry  the  ladies  up  without  a 
spill  I  do  not  know,  but  they  did  it.  When  we 
reached  the  broad,  flat  top  of  the  little  pass  the 
rain  had  ceased.  It  is  here  that  the  sulphur 
springs  begin  from  which  the  pass  takes  its  un- 
holy name.  We  all  had  to  walk,  and  as  Matsuda 
told  us  fearful  tales  of  how  people  who  had 
wandered  ever  so  little  from  the  right  path  had 
been  scalded  to  death,  we  dogged  his  footsteps 
closely.  The  scene  was  uncanny,  but  not  as 
tremendous  as  its  name  would  imply.  Clouds  of 
white  steam  rose  from  the  side  of  the  hill,  which 
was  covered  with  slippery  white  mud.  Tiny  rills 
of  hot  water  bubbled  up  from  little  cauldrons, 
flowed  across  our  path  and  down  to  join  the  main 
stream  running  through  the  valley.  The  real  ex- 
citement was  in  keeping  one's  footing  on  the  side 
of  the  hill  on  the  treacherous  mud.  After  this 
the  path  again  came  back  to  the  upper  world  of 
fields  and  farms.    When  we  got  back  to  the  hotel, 


Miyanoshita 


in 


as  I  felt  a  little  stiff,  I  indulged  in  one  of  the  hot 
baths  for  which  Miyanoshita  is  famous.  The 
water  is  naturally  warm,  and,  though  medicinal, 
is  so  little  so  that  one  can  bathe  in  it  without 
doctor's  orders.  The  manner  of  bathing  is  very 
comfortable.  The  bath-rooms  are  little  wooden 
cubicles,  lit  by  electricity,  and  divided  into  two 
parts.  The  outer  part  is  a  dressing-room,  and 
from  it  a  doorway  leads  into  the  bath  part,  which 
is  on  a  slightly  lower  level.  The  bath  is  a  tank, 
about  six  feet  by  three,  by  two  feet  six,  sunk  flush 
with  the  floor,  and  full  to  the  brim  of  warm  water, 
so  that  when  one  gets  in  the  water  flows  out  over 
the  floor,  which  is  specially  sloped  to  allow  it  to 
drain  off.  The  size  of  the  tank  makes  the  per- 
formance very  luxurious,  and  there  seems  to  be 
no  time  limit  on  occupancy. 

On  Wednesday  morning  we  went  a  short  walk 
up  the  main  road  and  across  a  bridge,  and  then 
Matsuda,  proudly  pointing  to  a  small  knob  of  a 
hill  appearing  over  the  nearer  ranges,  exclaimed, 
t*  That  is  Fuji."  We  returned  contented  that  we 
had  come  so  far  and  really  seen  the  peerless 
mountain ;  but  yet  our  joy  was  rather  a  chastened 
one.  On  our  way  to  this  glorious  view  we  stopped 
at  a  tea-house  —  the  day  was  warm  and  sunny  — 
and  wandered  into  a  picturesque  little  garden,  all 
stone  lanterns  and  tiny  lakes.  In  the  pools  were 
many   fat   carp,   some  golden  and  some  silver. 


1 1 2  West  and  by  East 

They  were  very  tame,  and  crowded  together  to 
feed  on  slices  of  dry  bread.  They  rushed  frantic- 
ally after  the  floating  dainty,  driving  it  before 
them  with  their  noses,  jostling  and  ousting  one 
another  till  the  bit  of  bread  was  the  rapidly  moving 
centre  of  a  wild  mass  of  gaping  mouths,  swishing 
tails,  and  gleaming  sides,  like  the  earth  in  the 
centre  of  the  Leonids.  It  is  a  picture  of  this 
garden  that  appears  as  a  frontispiece  to  this  book. 
It  is  from  a  photograph  by  Mr.  Montreal,  and 
some  of  the  gleams  in  the  water  are  supposed  to 
be  the  backs  of  the  contending  carp. 

In  the  afternoon  a  flag  was  flying  before  a  tea- 
house on  top  of  a  hill  near  the  hotel  to  indicate 
that  Fuji  was  then  visible  from  there.  So  Mr. 
Montreal  and  I  climbed  up  by  a  zigzag  path,  but 
though  the  view  of  the  valley  was  beautiful  the 
view  of  Fuji  was  hardly  better  than  the  one  we 
had  had  in  the  morning.  Later  on  we  did  some 
shopping,  and  I  was  so  engaged  in  bargaining  for 
some  saki-cups  that  I  was  totally  unaware  of  an 
earthquake.  The  most  characteristic  things  in 
the  Miyanoshita  shops  are  various  wooden  ar- 
ticles, such  as  picture-frames,  inlaid  roughly 
but  very  effectively  with  different  coloured 
woods. 

The  weather  seemed  settled  down  now  to  a 
beautiful  sort  of  Indian  summer,  and  Miyano- 
shita was  a  pleasant  place  to  linger  in.     But  the 


Miyanoshita  113 

day  I  had  fixed  for  sailing  was  rapidly  approach- 
ing, and  I  had  still  to  see  Kioto. 

The  main  line  from  Yokohama  south  runs  in 
the  Hakone  district  in  a  semicircle  of  which 
Miyanoshita  is  the  centre,  Kozu,  where  we  had 
left  the  railway,  at  one  end  of  the  diameter, 
and  Gotemba  at  the  other.  It  was  between  these 
two  stations  that  the  line  was  broken.  It  was 
possible,  therefore,  to  go  from  Miyanoshita  over 
the  Otome-Toge  pass  and  drop  down  on  the  rail- 
way at  Gotemba,  and  so  avoid  the  break  alto- 
gether. Trains  were  being  run  from  Yokohama 
to  one  side  of  the  break  and  their  passengers  and 
baggage  transshipped  to  other  trains  on  the  far 
side,  and  so  sent  through  to  Kioto,  but  with 
much  delay  and  discomfort.  I  would  thus  be  able 
to  get  to  Kioto  by  train,  but  I  did  not  know  how 
long  I  might  have  to  wait  at  Gotemba.  There 
was  a  train  timed  to  leave  at  9.30  A.M.,  and  this 
I  decided  I  would  take  on  Thursday  morning. 
I  did  not  expect  it  would  actually  leave  before 
11.30,  still,  in  order  to  reach  the  station  some- 
where near  the  advertised  time,  I  arranged  to 
leave  Miyanoshita  at  5.30.  As  there  is  a  fine 
view  of  Fuji  obtainable  from  the  top  of  the 
Otome-Toge  pass,  Mr.  Montreal  agreed  to  come 
so  far  with  me.  So  at  4.30  o'clock  we  were 
called,  and  at  5  we  breakfasted.  By  the  time  we 
were  ready  to  start  darkness  was  giving  place  to 


ii4  West  and  by  East 

twilight,  and  a  glorious  sunrise  was  preparing. 
Our  ponies  were  brought  round — my  luggage  had 
gone  on  ahead  —  and  we  three  mounted  and 
started ;  Matsuda  was  to  come  with  me  to  Go- 
temba  and  see  me  safely  into  the  train. 

After  a  mile  or  two  we  turned  out  of  the  high 
road  up  a  path  which  climbed  gently  along  the 
right-hand  side  of  the  valley.  For  the  most  part 
it  was  good,  but  liable  to  sudden  fits  of  degenera- 
tion, and  the  ponies  had  to  scramble  up  among 
great  boulders  with  the  saddle  at  a  surprising 
angle.  Happily,  they  were  very  sure-footed, 
and  having  no  dignity  to  maintain  did  not  expect 
a  well-made  road  but  took  anything  that  came. 

It  was  a  beautiful  ride;  the  morning  fresh, 
cool,  and  still.  The  sun  as  it  rose  cleared  the 
sky  of  the  few  dappled  clouds  which  had  gathered 
in  the  east,  and  shone  first  on  the  rounded  tops 
of  the  green  hills;  then,  driving  the  shadows 
slowly  down  the  hillside,  shone  on  our  backs  and 
glistened  in  the  tall,  dew-laden  grass  and  wild 
flowers  on  either  side  of  the  path,  and  flashed  at 
length  in  the  noisy  stream  at  the  bottom  of  the 
valley.  We  passed  a  few  scattered  houses,  where 
sleepy  Japanese,  well  wrapped  up,  were  beginning 
to  stir  on  the  verandas.  At  the  inevitable  tea- 
house grass  sandals  were  tied  on  the  ponies'  fore 
feet,  a  necessary  precaution,  as  the  steepest  parts 
of  the  path  were  often  of  slippery  wet  clay.     Just 


Miyanoshita  115 

after  this  tea-house  we  crossed  a  broad  grass  plain, 
where,  Matsuda  said,  the  finest  horses  and  cattle 
in  Japan  are  reared ;  according  to  my  observation 
this   does  not    imply  anything  very  wonderful. 
Then  came  a  steep  pull  of  half  a  mile  or  so  with 
many  sharp  zigzags.     Except  in  Japan  one  would 
never  dream  of  riding  up  such  a  place,  and  as  a 
matter  of  fact  we  walked,  as  much  to  salve  our 
conscience  as  to  relieve  the  ponies,  for  mine  at 
least  seemed  quite  happy  under  me.     We  met 
several  pack-horses  with  their  drivers,  and  kept  a 
pretty  sharp  lookout  for  them  so  that  we  were 
able  to  see  them  in  time  and  give  warning,  and 
then  one  of  the  parties  could  draw  aside  where 
the  path  happened  to  be  a  little  broader.     Other- 
wise we  stood  a  good  chance  of  being  swept  by 
the  great  swinging  packs  off  the  path  into  the 
woods  and  rocks  of  the  hillside.     Suddenly  we 
came  out  from  some  scrubby  woods  on  to  the  tiny 
plateau  at  the  top,  face  to  face  with  a  view  which 
we  felt  should  be  enough  not  only  to  bring  any 
man  out  of  his  bed  at  half-past  four  in  the  morn- 
ing but  across  ten  thousand  miles  of  land  and  sea. 
Behind    us   was  a  tumbled  country  of  grass- 
covered   hills, —  among  them   on   the  left   Lake 
Hakone, —  with  a  silver  strip  of  sea  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  the  land  near  Eynoshima  like  a  cloud 
on  the  horizon.     Sloping  down  from  our  feet  and 
stretching  far  away  on  either  hand  lay  a  broad 


n6  West  and  by  East 

valley,  cut  up  into  tiny  fields,  dotted  with  in- 
numerable trees  and  houses,  and  backed  by  dis- 
tant broken  hills.  Directly  opposite  us  Fuji,  the 
M  peerless  mountain,"  rose  in  a  glorious  sweep 
sheer  from  the  valley.  In  shape  it  was  exactly 
the  truncated  cone  of  Japanese  art.  The  beauti- 
ful curves  of  the  sides  were  unbroken  save  where 
on  the  left  slope  a  little  hillock  projected — a  new 
crater  thrown  up  by  one  of  the  later  eruptions. 
Only  a  tiny  thread  or  two  of  snow  were  left  on 
the  summit.  The  sun  pouring  down  from  a  clear 
sky  brought  out  every  detail.  There  was  noth- 
ing to  mar  the  outline,  except  where  a  chain  of 
tiny  clouds  lay  like  a  girdle  midway  between  the 
base  and  summit  of  the  mountain,  and  served  to 
accentuate  the  height.  Exactly  above  the  crater 
hung  the  full  moon,  very  large,  but  cold  and 
grey,  as  it  neared  its  setting.  It  looked  like 
some  huge  projectile  just  thrown  up  from  the 
mouth  of  the  volcano. 

Fuji,  the  coy  and  capricious,  no  longer  wrapped 
in  a  mantle  of  clouds,  stood  revealed  to  us  —  a 
glorious  sight  and  a  deathless  memory. 

But  long  as  I  could  have  lingered  in  admiration 
I  had  to  press  on  in  case  my  train  should  be 
reasonably  on  time.  So  I  said  good-bye  to  Mr. 
Montreal.  He  went  home  to  Miyanoshita  and 
breakfast,  while  Matsuda  and  I  began  to  drop 
down  on  Gotemba,  which  lay,  as  it  seemed,  at 


Miyanoshita  1 1 7 

our  feet.  But  the  farther  we  went  the  farther 
there  seemed  to  be  to  go.  On  the  way  down  we 
saw  hardly  any  signs  of  life,  except  a  cavalry 
officer  and  his  orderly,  apparently  out  on  a  recon- 
naissance. When  we  arrived  on  the  flat  we  found 
there  was  still  a  considerable  distance  to  go 
through  the  fields.  After  passing  a  village  with 
its  wrestling-ring  we  heard  an  engine  whistle, 
but  we  thought  nothing  much  about  it  except  that 
it  showed  we  were  near  the  railway.  What  then 
was  our  amazement  to  find  on  reaching  the  station 
at  9.40  that  the  whistle  had  belonged  to  our  own 
train!  The  authorities  had  not  waited  for  any 
connection  from  Yokohama  way,  but  had  started 
the  train  afresh  from  Gotemba  if  anything  a  little 
before  its  time.  Time  one  way  or  the  other  is  no 
object  in  Japan. 

The  train  I  had  missed  would  have  got  me  to 
Kioto  about  midnight.  But  as  it  was  I  had  two 
alternatives  left :  to  stay  wasting  time  in  a  little 
village  where  no  one  spoke  English  (Matsuda 
must  of  course  go  back  to  Miyanoshita),  and 
there  was  nothing  to  do,  till  the  next  through 
train  in  the  evening,  which  would  land  me  in 
Kioto  next  morning;  or  else  to  go  on  at  about 
11.30  by  a  train  which  took  me  as  far  as  Nagoya 
that  night,  where  —  Matsuda  said  —  there  was  a 
decent  semi-European  inn  at  which  foreigners 
were  in  the  habit  of  stopping,  and  then  by  getting 


n8  West  and  by  East 

up  early  arrive  in  Kioto  about  eleven  the  next 
day.  The  latter  plan  seemed  to  waste  least  time 
and  afford  more  amusement,  so  I  decided  on  it. 

Till  the  train  should  arrive  we  adjourned  to  the 
tea-house,  and  Matsuda  prepared  me  a  tiffin. 
The  food  had  come  from  the  hotel  in  the  usual 
little  wooden  boxes.  Matsuda  obtained  an  an- 
tique knife  and  fork  and  a  dingy  tumbler,  and 
cut  up  my  meat  for  me.  The  tea-house  would 
not  part  with  its  only  knife,  but  the  fork  they 
would  lend  me.  I  carefully  cherished  it  in  a 
fragment  of  newspaper  till  (according  to  Mat- 
suda's  instructions)  I  left  it  at  the  Grand  Hotel, 
Yokohama,  with  orders  for  it  to  be  given  him, 
when  he  would  return  it  to  its  owner;  it  might 
have  been  a  Crown  jewel.  The  dingy  tumbler  I 
left — I  preferred  to  drink  from  the  bottle.  Have 
I  mentioned  that  there  is  a  most  excellent  sort 
of  lager-beer  brewed  in  Yokohama  and  found  all 
over  Japan  ?  The  chief  brewer,  I  believe,  is 
German,  and  the  dividends  fabulous. 

While  we  were  thus  engaged  a  number  of 
soldiers  passed  us,  coming  in  from  exercise.  Ac- 
cording to  Matsuda,  they  were  part  of  the  troops 
stationed  at  Tokio,  and  were  practising  for  the 
autumn  manoeuvres.  There  were,  inter  alia,  sev- 
eral field  batteries,  a  mule  battery,  and,  I  think, 
a  field  telegraph  corps.  The  men  were  tall  for 
Japanese,  but  lacked  smartness.     A  minute  or 


Miyanoshita  119 

two  afterwards  an  officer  entered  the  tea-house. 
It  was  interesting  to  see  him  kick  off  his  boots 
before  climbing  the  steep  stairs.  Evidently  his 
European  uniform  had  not  altered  his  native 
habits  or  manners.  Then  as  the  mass  of  men 
just  dismissed  poured  into  the  house  we  trans- 
ferred ourselves  to  the  peace  of  the  station. 

When  the  train  arrived  Matsuda  put  me  in,  and 
I  left  him  on  the  platform  wreathed  in  smiles 
and  bowing  profusely.  I  was  the  only  European 
and  the  only  first-class  passenger  in  the  train,  and 
continued  so  all  day.  I  did  see  a  few  Europeans 
in  a  north-bound  train,  but  felt  on  the  whole  that 
I  had  suddenly  severed  my  connection  with  the 
Western  hemisphere  and  all  its  works.  I  was 
quite  an  object  of  interest,  and  at  every  station  a 
little  crowd  clattered  up  to  gaze  at  me. 

The  journey  was  interesting,  though  at  last  it 
became  wearisome.  The  train  ran  sometimes 
among  hills  terraced  for  tea  culture,  sometimes 
through  broad  straths  where  the  rice  harvest 
could  be  seen  in  every  stage.  In  some  cases  the 
fields  were  still  covered  with  the  heavy-eared 
crop,  in  others  lines  of  shorn  roots  showed  through 
a  sea  of  mud.  There  was  rice  in  cocks,  rice  under 
the  flail,  rice  straw  drying  on  high  frames  or  being 
drawn  through  a  sort  of  large-toothed  saw  to  clean 
it.  At  one  time  we  skirted  the  seashore,  popping 
in  and  out  of  numberless  little  tunnels.     Between 


120  West  and  by  East 

the  tunnels  we  got  glimpses  of  fishing  villages, 
where  the  whole  population  seemed  to  be  swarm- 
ing round  the  sampans  drawn  high  up  on  the 
beach.  As  the  sun  set  we  crossed  the  mouth  of 
a  great  lagoon  on  a  long  wooden  bridge,  and  it 
was  then  I  lost  sight  of  Fuji.  Japanese  trains 
travel  slowly,  and  Japanese  railways  twist  and 
turn,  and  the  day  had  kept  very  clear,  so  that 
Fuji  had  remained  a  constant  background  to 
every  view,  appearing  first  on  one  hand  and  then 
on  the  other. 

Matsuda  had  telegraphed  to  the  hotel  at  Na- 
goya  for  someone  to  meet  me  who  spoke  Eng- 
lish. I  could  not  help  wondering  what  I  should 
do  if  none  such  appeared,  as  this  was  my  first 
journey  in  Japan  by  myself.  However,  I  need 
not  have  worried,  for  when  the  train  reached 
Nagoya,  at  about  8.30,  there  was  a  man  to  meet 
me.  So  I  was  put  into  one  rickshaw  and  my 
luggage  into  another,  and  was  trundled  off  down 
a  fine  broad  street  full  of  the  most  appalling 
smells.  The  hotel  was  small,  but  fairly  clean 
and  comfortable,  and  a  party  of  three  Americans 
came  in  while  I  was  at  dinner.  The  dining-room 
windows  commanded  a  fine  view  of  the  hotel 
bath-house,  a  curious  reminder  in  the  middle  of 
my  European  dinner  that  I  was  still  in  Japan. 
Several  curio  dealers  invaded  the  room  before  I 
had  finished  my  meal,  and  with  them  I  spent  a 


Miyanoshita  1 2 1 

pleasant  and,  to  them,  more  or  less  profitable 
evening.  I  had  to  give  up  my  passport  that  it 
might  be  submitted  to  the  police,  and  felt  doubt- 
ful if  it  would  be  returned  in  time  for  me  to  catch 
the  early  train  in  the  morning.  But  to  my  relief 
next  morning,  at  my  half-past-four  breakfast,  I 
found  it  had  come  back,  and  not  long  afterwards 
I  returned  in  two  rickshaws  down  the  broad  street 
with  the  appalling  smells.  My  acquaintance  with 
Nagoya  is  therefore  very  limited.  I  saw  this  one 
street  once  at  night  and  once  in  the  early  dawn. 
I  felt  very  proud  of  myself  when  I  asked  for  a 
first-class  ticket  to  Kioto  in  Japanese  and  actually 
got  the  right  ticket  in  return.  In  spite  of  the 
early  hour  —  the  train  left  at  5.25  A.M. — the 
station  was  crowded  with  Japanese  travellers. 

As  we  pulled  out  of  the  station  I  caught  a 
glimpse  against  the  growing  light  in  the  sky  of 
the  queer  pagoda-like  castle  of  Nagoya,  capped 
with  two  golden  dolphins,  one  of  which  went  to 
the  Vienna  Exhibition  of  1873,  and  on  its  return 
was  shipwrecked,  but  after  a  long  immersion 
fished  up  and  restored  to  its  old  place. 

The  journey  to  Kioto  was  much  like  that  of 
the  previous  day,  except  that  the  weather  was 
dreary,  and  we  had  some  pretty  glimpses  of  Lake 
Biwa. 

I  reached  Kioto  about  11  A.M.,  Friday,  October 
15th. 


CHAPTER  X 

KIOTO 

KIOTO,  the  western  capital  of  Japan,  was, 
until  1868,  the  seat  of  the  Mikado's  court. 
It  remains  much  more  old-fashioned  than  its 
younger  rival,  Tokio,  the  eastern  capital.  There 
are  no  tram-cars,  and  though  electric  light  is 
used  it  is  not  very  general,  and  outside  each 
house  is  hung  a  long  paper  lantern  decorated  with 
great  characters,  which  both  lights  the  street  and 
tells  the  number  of  the  house.  Begging  priests 
may  be  seen  in  the  streets,  under  huge,  bowl- 
shaped  hats  that  hide  their  faces,  jingling  little 
bells  as  they  go  from  house  to  house  for  money. 
The  children's  heads  are  still  for  the  most  part 
shaved — a  custom  dying  out  in  Tokio — and  also, 
it  must  be  added,  often  covered  with  loathsome 
eruptions. 

My  hotel  lay  on  the  far  side  of  the  town  across 
the  river  —  a  small  one  —  which  divides  the  city. 
Part  of  my  way  lay  parallel  to  a  canal  which  runs 
from  Lake  Biwa  through  the  city  and  so  to  Osaka. 
It  does  not  seem  to  be  locked,  but  has  a  slight 

122 


Kioto  123 

fall,  a  rapid  current,  and  only  a  few  inches  of 
depth.  The  heavy-laden  barges  are  towed  up 
against  the  stream  by  the  boatmen,  a  most 
powerful-looking  set  of  men.  But  they  have  all 
their  work  to  make  any  headway  even  at  the 
slowest  pace.  All  day  this  slow  procession  goes 
on  through  the  heart  of  the  city.  I  suppose  the 
barges  come  down  some  way  and  some  time,  but 
I  only  saw  them  go  up. 

The  Ya-ami  Hotel  stands  on  the  side  of  the 
hills  which  bound  on  the  north  the  valley  in 
which  Kioto  lies.  It  is  a  queer,  rambling  place, 
built  on  many  levels  with  many  additions,  all 
connected  by  broad  covered  verandas  and  bridges, 
by  which  device  nearly  all  the  rooms  are  in  front, 
commanding  fine  views  of  Kioto.  From  my 
windows  to  the  opposite  hills,  behind  which  the 
sun  set,  there  stretched  the  city ;  in  the  daytime 
a  vast  expanse  of  red-tiled  roofs,  at  night  a  maze 
of  twinkling  lights.  One  tall  chimney  rose  from 
the  middle  of  the  red-tiled  roofs  as  a  sign  of  pro- 
gress. It  belonged  to  the  electric  generating 
house.  At  night  it  poured  out  a  dense  cloud  of 
black  smoke  which  trailed  right  across  the  sky. 
There  was  just  such  another  chimney  and  trail  of 
smoke  at  Yokohama.  At  this  hotel  I  saw  for  the 
first  time  any  considerable  number  of  foreigners 
other  than  those  we  had  brought  on  the  Empress 
of  China.     Among  the  guests  at  the  hotel  were 


124  West  and  by  East 

two  German  families,  —  apparently  come  from 
Kobe"  for  the  Sunday, — who  indulged  in  some 
birthday-dinner  festivities  just  as  though  still  in 
the  Fatherland. 

At  the  hotel  I  found  two  steamer  acquaint- 
ances, two  men  from  Natal,  who  were  seeing  the 
world  with  great  thoroughness.  They  had 
arranged  for  a  Japanese  dinner  and  dance  for  the 
evening  of  this  day,  and  were  willing  that  I 
should  come  too.  To  occupy  the  afternoon  we 
visited  some  of  the  shops  for  which  Kioto  is 
famous,  and  saw  gorgeous  silks  and  embroideries, 
pictures  in  cut  velvet,  and  beautiful  damascened 
work  at  Komai's.  But  the  curio  shops  of  Kioto 
should  be  visited  at  the  beginning  of  a  trip  and 
not  towards  the  end  when  the  available  money  is 
almost  gone.  We  also  saw  a  religious  procession. 
There  were  many  gorgeous  palanquins  and  num- 
bers of  men  carrying  gaily  decorated  poles  under 
whose  weight  they  staggered.  But  the  effect 
was  marred  by  a  lack  of  organisation  and  by  the 
fact  that,  though  the  men  wore  a  sort  of  old- 
fashioned  uniform,  they  nearly  all  wore  the 
ordinary  M  bowler  "  hat. 

Before  going  out  to  our  dinner  at  the  tea-house 
we  took  the  precaution  to  make  a  good  dinner  at 
our  hotel,  and  we  put  on  evening  dress  because 
the  guide  said  it  created  a  better  impression. 
We  were  glad  to  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing 


Kioto  125 

what  a  Japanese  dinner  was  like,  but  in  any  case 
it  is  almost  impossible  to  have  a  dance  without  a 
dinner,  because  the  dancing  is  considered  an 
integral  part  of  the  meal. 

The  entertainment  was  in  a  tea-house  near  the 
hotel,  and  when  we  had  taken  off  our  shoes  we 
were  shown  up  to  a  brightly  lit  room  on  the  top 
story.  The  room  was  practically  empty  except 
for  four  little  tables  six  or  eight  inches  high,  and 
four  \a.t  cushions.  We  each  sat  down  (the  guide 
had-  come  with  us)  at  a  table  with  our  backs  to 
the  windows,  leaving  the  greater  part  of  the  floor 
clear  for  the  geishas.  Each  table  was  crowded 
with  little  dishes  and  bowls,  for  almost  the  whole 
dinner  is  served  at  once.  There  was  a  lacquered 
bowl  full  of  a  soup  in  which  bits  of  fish  and 
chicken  floated  —  this  was  called  foreign  soup ;  a 
plate  of  split  salt  fish,  saucers  of  chicken  and 
mushrooms,  of  boiled  fish  and  string-beans,  a 
pile  of  little  omelettes  and  rice-cakes,  and  a  bowl 
of  rice.  A  second  soup — bean  soup — appeared  a 
little  later.  The  list  of  dishes  does  not  sound 
unattractive,  but  the  reality  was  terrible.  Every- 
thing had  to  be  cooked  till  it  was  soft  enough  to 
be  pulled  to  pieces  with  chop-sticks  —  the  only 
instruments  we  were  given  —  and  everything  ex- 
cept the  rice  was  tainted  with  some  pungent, 
pervasive  flavour  which  I  could  not  recognise, 
but  which — at  least  in  my  opinion — reduced  every 


126  West  and  by  East 

dish  to  a  common  level  of  nauseousness.  We 
managed  our  chop-sticks  with  more  or  less  dexter- 
ity, picking  first  a  little  fish  and  then  a  mush- 
room, a  tid  bit  from  the  soup  to  disguise  the 
flavour  of  the  mushroom,  and  some  rice  to  neu- 
tralise the  soup.  This  was  the  way  we  were 
instructed  to  proceed. 

Our  drinks^were  tea  and  saki.  The  saki  was 
served  warm,  and  tasted  like  very  bad  sherry  and 
water. 

After  a  little,  two  solemn  women,  who  loeked 
about  fifty  but  were  more  likely  twenty-five, 
came  in,  and  took  their  seats.  They  formed  the 
orchestra,  playing  mournful  tunes  on  the  samisen, 
an  instrument  shaped  something  like  a  banjo,  but 
whose  strings  are  struck  with  a  very  large  plec- 
trum. To  this  accompaniment  they  sang  inter- 
minable lugubrious  songs. 

The  four  geishas  who  entered  shortly  after  the 
orchestra  were  little  girls  of  twelve  to  fifteen 
years  of  age.  They  were  gorgeously  dressed  in 
kimonos,  which  trailed  on  the  ground  so  that 
even  when  the  girls  danced  their  feet  could  hardly 
ever  be  seen.  Their  obis,  too,  were  beautiful, 
and  their  hair  was  decked  with  all  manner  of  gay 
combs  and  artificial  flowers.  Their  faces  and  lips 
were  thickly  painted.  Till  the  time  came  for 
them  to  dance  they  sat  down  beside  us.  They 
were  very  dainty  and  polite  and  willing  to  be 


Kioto  127 

agreeable.  But  the  barrier  of  language  reduced 
conversation  almost  entirely  to  nods  and  smiles. 
They  were  always  at  hand  to  help  us  pityingly 
at  some  awkward  crisis  in  the  management  of  our 
chop-sticks  or  to  point  out  some  dainty  there 
seemed  a  fear  we  might  neglect.  By  this  time  we 
were  confining  ourselves  almost  exclusively  to  the 
innocuous  rice.  Then  after  we  had  put  from  us 
the  desire  for  food  and  drink  we  lit  Japanese  pipes 
by  way  of  experiment,  and  very  shortly  after- 
wards cigarettes  for  enjoyment,  and  the  dancing 
began. 

Some  of  the  dances  were  for  one  girl  only, 
some  for  two,  and  some  for  all  four.  Each  dance 
tells  some  complicated  story,  which  the  guide 
explained  to  us.  One  represented  a  lion  playing 
with  a  peony  —  the  king  of  beasts  with  the  king 
of  flowers;  another  a  destitute  girl  journeying 
home  to  her  parents,  who  must  dance  to  pay  her 
way.  One  of  the  pas-de-quatre  was  a  dance  of 
triumph  over  the  Chinese,  and  another  portrayed 
the  flowers  of  the  four  seasons.  The  finale  was 
called  a  "  foreign  dance,"  and  was  chiefly  a  kind 
of  "  grand  chain,"  with  a  refrain  of  '•  Go-ood-a- 
Bye,  Go-ood-a-Bye  "  sung  by  dancers  and  mu- 
sicians. All  the  dancing  was  slow  and  graceful, 
— posturing,  gesticulating,  stamping, — but  it  was 
monotonous  to  our  untrained  eyes,  and  soon 
palled.    The  performers  took  it  in  deadly  earnest, 


128  West  and  by  East 

except  the  last  dance,  which,  as  a  burlesque  of 
Western  methods,  afforded  them  great  amuse- 
ment, so  that  their  merry  giggling  almost  over- 
came them. 

We  were  decidedly  stiff  by  the  time  the  enter- 
tainment was  over,  for  we  must  have  been  sitting 
on  the  floor  between  two  and  three  hours.  As  the 
rickshaw  took  me  back  to  the  hotel  I  decided  that 
the  Western  adaptation  of  "  The  Geisha"  was  an 
improvement  on  the  original,  and  that  one  Japan- 
ese dinner  was  good  as  an  experience,  but  more 
would  be  suicide. 

The  very  limited  time  I  had  in  Kioto  only 
allowed  me  to  take  a  hasty  look  at  a  few  of  the 
more  famous  sights.  I  saw  the  two  great  temples, 
Nishi  Hongwanji  and  Higashi  Hongwanji.  The 
former  is  an  ancient  temple  and  monastery  famous 
for  its  painted  walls  and  doors.  Generally  a  whole 
room  is  decorated  with  a  single  flower  or  bird  or 
some  flower  and  bird  together.  There  is,  for  in- 
stance, one  room  of  peacocks  and  cherry  trees, 
another  of  bamboos,  another  of  wild  geese.  The 
background  is  always  gold,  and  the  colours  are 
faded  with  age,  but  the  decorative  effect  is  excel- 
lent. Here,  too,  are  famous  gardens — very  small 
to  European  eyes — where  are  ponds  full  of  greedy 
carp  who  struggled  madly  for  a  bit  of  bread. 
Higashi  Hongwanji  is  also  very  large  but  quite 
new,  built  with  the  offerings  in  money  or  kind  of 


Kioto  129 

the  peasants.  Beyond  its  fine  proportions  it 
was  not  interesting,  except  that  —  for  Japan  —  it 
was  crowded  with  worshippers.  Perhaps  this  was 
another  sign  of  the  "  old-fashionedness "  of 
Kioto.  Elsewhere  there  is  a  Daibutsu,  a  huge 
head  and  shoulders  of  the  god  in  wood,  measur. 
ing  fifty-eight  feet  from  the  ground,  whence  the 
shoulders  spring,  to  the  crown  of  the  head,  and 
its  principal  merit  is  its  size.  It  stands  under  a 
little  temple  built  to  shelter  it.  Just  outside  is  a 
huge  bell,  fourteen  feet  high,  weighing — it  is  said 
—  sixty-three  tons.  It  is  hung  in  a  belfry,  and 
has  a  fine  booming  sound.  The  method  of 
striking  (as  is  the  case  with  all  big  bells  in  Japan) 
is  by  a  log  of  wood  suspended  horizontally  so  as 
just  not  to  touch  the  rim.  The  ringer  seizes  a 
rope  hanging  from  the  log,  leans  all  his  weight 
backwards,  and  then  lets  go,  and  the  log  crashes 
against  the  bell.  The  merit  of  the  system  is  that 
if  the  log  is  not  too  big  or  the  ringer  too  small, 
he  can  control  the  force  of  the  blow  and  conse- 
quently the  volume  of  sound.  There  is  a  similar^ 
but  smaller,  bell  at  Nikko,  on  which  the  hours 
are  struck  for  all  the  neighbourhood. 

The  most  impressive  place  in  Kioto  is  San-ju- 
san-gen-do,  the  temple  of  the  33,333  images  of 
Kwannon,  the  goddess  of  mercy.  Of  these  one 
thousand  are  nearly  life-size — five  feet  high,  to  be 
exact.     The   full   tale   is   made  up  of  the  tiny 


130  West  and  by  East 

figures  on  the  hands,  heads,  and  halos  of  the  large 
ones.  The  figures  are  a  dull  gold,  and  stand  in 
ten  tiers  rising  to  the  roof.  The  building  is  long 
and  narrow,  so  that  there  is  only  a  little  strip  of 
floor  left  in  front  of  the  images.  When  I  was 
there  the  place  was  in  semi-darkness  and  prac- 
tically empty,  and  the  dimly  seen  lines  of  figures 
stretching  away  down  the  vast  hall  had  quite  an 
eerie  effect. 

On  Saturday  afternoon  I  was  lucky  enough  to 
see  some  wrestling  bouts,  which,  according  to  my 
rickshaw  man,  were  funeral  games,  but  whether 
in  honour  of  a  man  just  dead  or  of  some  long- 
departed  hero  I  could  not  quite  make  out.  In 
the  middle  of  a  large  courtyard  was  a  ring  of  soft 
earth,  perhaps  five  yards  in  diameter,  with  a 
slightly  raised  rim.  Over  it  was  stretched  an 
awning,  and  all  around  the  audience,  principally  of 
men  and  boys,  sat  and  stood,  or  clustered  on  any 
roof  or  wall  which  commanded  a  good  view.  On 
one  side  of  the  courtyard  was  a  small  altar,  and 
just  round  the  edge  of  the  ring  the  wrestlers 
squatted  to  wait  their  turn.  The  master  of  cere- 
monies was  a  young  man  in  an  old-fashioned 
costume  with  great  projecting  epaulettes,  and  in 
his  hand  a  sort  of  fan  which  was  used  as  a  start- 
ing signal. 

I  saw  a  number  of  bouts  wrestled.  Like  the 
evacuation   of   Crete,   the  preliminaries  took  so 


Kioto  131 

long  and  were  so  wearisome  that  the  event  itself 
passed  almost  unnoticed  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye.  In  each  bout  one  combatant  came  from 
each  side  of  the  ring.  They  wore  only  a  loin 
cloth  with  a  broad  belt  from  which  hung  a  long 
fringe.  The  more  noted  of  them  wore  their  hair 
in  the  old  fashion,  grown  long  and  then  tied  in  a 
queue  which  was  fastened  on  top  of  the  head,  the 
general  effect  being  very  ladylike.  Some  were 
very  scraggy,  but  the  majority  fat,  and  one  enor- 
mously so.  For  Japanese  they  were  distinctly 
tall.  They  always  wasted  a  great  deal  of  time  in 
a  kind  of  stately  prancing  to  show  their  muscles 
and  test  their  suppleness.  Then  a  mouthful  of 
rice  or  water,  and  then  more  strutting.  Perhaps 
then  they  were  ready  to  take  position  in  the 
middle  of  the  ring  within  arm's  length  of  each 
other,  stooping  forward  ready  to  spring.  Then 
suddenly  they  again  stood  upright,  and  the  whole 
programme  was  repeated,  and  at  the  second 
attempt  they  would  get  as  far  as  gripping,  then 
smiling  and  disengaging.  As  a  rule  there  were 
three  or  four  false  starts  in  each  bout,  and  when 
they  really  got  to  grips,  holding  on  to  each  other's 
belt,  the  fall  generally  came  in  a  few  seconds. 
One  or  two  rounds  lasted  longer  and  were  really 
exciting,  evoking  great  applause.  In  one  case  a 
man  simply  bustled  his  opponent  out  of  the  ring 
with  his  open  hands  without  ever  coming  to  grips, 


132  West  and  by  East 

and  this  counted  as  a  victory.  When  one  set  of 
competitors  was  finished  the  altar  was  brought 
into  the  ring  and  all  the  wrestlers  appeared  in 
magnificent  aprons  which  fell  stiff  with  gold  em- 
broidery to  the  ground.  They  made  obeisance 
and  danced  a  short  and  solemn  dance  ;  then,  in 
order  of  merit,  beginning  with  the  man  so  far  the 
victor,  they  advanced  one  by  one  to  the  altar, 
bowed  low,  and  retired.  When  the  last  man  had 
so  done  the  altar  was  removed  and  the  wrestling 
began  again.  How  long  it  continued  I  do  not 
know;  they  seemed  no  nearer  finishing  when  I 
left  than  when  I  arrived. 

On  Sunday  the  four  of  us  went  by  rickshaw 
to  Lake  Biwa.  It  was  about  eight  or  ten  miles 
distant,  the  way  lying  along  the  Tokaido,  one 
of  the  ancient  highways.  It  was  a  fine  broad 
road,  though  rather  bumpy  as  to  surface  ; 
thronged  with  foot-passengers  and  heavy-laden 
little  two-wheeled  carts  pushed  or  pulled  by  de- 
graded-looking coolies — men,  boys,  and  women. 
We  trotted  through  several  villages  straggling 
along  the  roadside,  and  finally  a  long  descent 
through  Otsu  brought  us  to  the  level  of  the  lake. 
Here  we  left  our  rickshaws  and  climbed  up  to  a 
temple  with  a  terrace  whence  we  got  a  fine  view 
of  the  lake,  and  then  down  by  flights  of  grey 
stone  steps  through  giant  cryptomeria  to  a  gate 
where  the  rickshaws  met  us.     We  jogged  along 


Kioto  133 

for  another  couple  of  miles  down  a  straight,  flat, 
white  road  through  fields  where,  among  other 
things,  we  saw  cotton  growing,  to  Karasaki  with 
its  pine  tree,  which  is  said  to  be  the  largest  in  the 
world.  It  certainly  is  not  the  tallest,  though 
perhaps  it  may  be  the  largest  in  length  of  limb  or 
cubic  content.  It  grows  right  on  the  edge  of  the 
lake,  guarded  by  a  semicircular  retaining-wall. 
It  is  getting  decrepit,  but  is  elaborately  cared  for, 
its  spreading  branches  being  upheld  by  a  multi- 
tude of  poles,  so  that  from  a  distance  there  seems 
to  be  not  one  tree  but  a  grove.  Over  one  deli- 
cate spot  a  little  roof  is  built.  These  precautions, 
I  suppose,  are  necessary,  but  they  hide  the  pro- 
portions of  the  tree  and  spoil  the  effect  of  its  size. 
We  were  a  good  deal  bothered  here  by  begging 
children,  a  fact  I  mention  because  so  far,  except- 
ing by  a  few  miserable  old  women  or  women 
with  children,  we  had  been  treated  as  distin- 
guished strangers  and  not  as  possible  benefactors. 

We  hired  a  sampan  to  while  away  the  time  till 
tiffin,  and  were  rowed  a  little  way  down  the  lake. 
The  blue  waters  of  the  lake  and  the  surrounding 
low,  green  hills  were  bathed  in  brilliant  sunshine, 
but  I  think  as  the  sampan  swayed  gently  on  its 
way  the  view  grew  dim  before  our  eyes. 

When  hunger  drove  us  back  to  land  we  found 
the  tiffin  we  had  brought  with  us  ready  in  the 
upper  room  of  a  tea-house  near  the  great  tree. 


134  West  and  by  East 

All  around  were  fields  of  rice  or  corn,  ripe,  or 
nearly  so.  To  scare  the  birds  from  the  crops, 
long  cords  radiated  from  the  tea-house  in  all 
directions.  They  were  carried  through  loops 
fastened  to  bamboo  poles,  and  ended  each  in  a 
bunch  of  wooden  clappers;  so  that  if  the  owner 
of  the  tea-house  saw  any  corner  of  his  fields  par- 
ticularly infested  with  birds  he  could  pull  the 
cord  which  commanded  that  special  district, 
cause  the  clappers  to  sound,  and  drive  the  rob- 
bers to  another  feeding-ground.  This  perform- 
ance occurred  several  times  during  tiffin. 

On  our  way  back,  as  we  were  bowling  merrily 
down-hill  with  two  coolies  to  each  rickshaw,  the 
axle  of  the  rickshaw  just  before  mine,  carrying 
one  of  the  men  from  Natal,  snapped  suddenly. 
The  rickshaw  made  a  couple  of  wild  bounds, 
ploughing  up  the  road  with  the  broken  stump, 
and  finally  deposited  the  man  from  Natal  and  the 
rickshaw-coolie  in  the  dust.  Happily  the  dust 
was  deep  and  soft,  and  neither  of  them  was  hurt 
in  spite  of  the  extreme  suddenness  of  the  stop- 
page. A  new  rickshaw  was  soon  obtained  in  the 
village,  and  so  we  came  to  Kioto  before  sundown. 

I  had  tried  to  get  a  permit  to  see  the  Imperial 
Palace  at  Kioto,  but  in  vain.  The  people  at  the 
Consulate  at  Yokohama  had  expressed  their  in- 
ability and  referred  us  to  the  Legation  at  Tokio. 
Thither  Mr.  Montreal  and  I  had  gone.     But  we 


Kioto  135 

were  told  that  the  minister  would  not  ask  for 
these  permits  except  for  personal  friends,  travel- 
lers bringing  letters  of  introduction  to  him,  or 
distinguished  strangers.  As  we  could  not  bring 
ourselves  under  any  of  these  three  heads  we  had 
to  retire  from  the  Legation  unsatisfied.  My 
Japanese  friend,  whose  uncle  occupied  a  high 
position  at  court,  next  made  an  attempt  on  my 
behalf,  but  he  was  told  that  at  that  season  of  the 
year  permission  was  given  to  foreign  royalties 
only.  In  the  present  enlightened  condition  of 
Japan  it  seemed  useless  to  try  to  bring  ourselves 
under  this  head,  and  we  abandoned  the  attempt, 
consoling  ourselves  with  the  reflection  that,  after 
all,  the  palace  might  not  be  worth  seeing.  On 
the  other  hand  the  fact  remains  that  two  young 
American  fellow-passengers  secured  permits  by 
merely  going  to  the  United  States  Consulate  at 
Yokohama,  which  forwarded  their  request  to 
Tokio. 

On  Monday  morning  I  rode  round  the  tall  white 
tile-roofed  walls  of  the  palace  gardens,  a  melan- 
choly substitute  for  a  sight  of  the  interior  glories 
which  Murray  describes.  I  also  went  to  the  tem- 
ple of  Kiomizu,  which  lies  on  the  hillside  at 
the  other  end  of  the  city,  far  from  the  palace. 
A  very  steep  and  narrow  street  winds  up  to  it, 
lined  with  booths  crammed  and  overflowing  with 
all  manner  of  tiny  china  toys,  people,  animals, 


136  West  and  by  East 

and  reptiles,  especially  frogs  made  to  float  in 
water.  There  is  at  the  top  one  of  the  few 
Japanese  pagodas.  A  steep  and  rather  cranky 
staircase  leads  to  the  roof,  from  which  there  is  a 
fine  view  of  the  far-stretching  city.  The  temple 
itself  is  built  on  the  extreme  edge  of  a  wooded 
ravine,  in  fact  partly  over  the  edge,  supported  on 
trestle-work  built  out  on  the  hillside.  It  is  not 
remarkable  except  for  its  exceeding  plainness 
and  solidity,  due  either  to  its  age  or  to  an  affected 
archaism.  The  floor  is  bare,  and  the  huge  round 
wooden  pillars  innocent  of  paint  or  lacquer.  The 
interior  is  hung  with  rather  gaudy  framed  pictures 
— votive  offerings  I  believe.  At  the  entrance  are 
the  tables  of  the  money-changers,  where  you  may 
get  your  sens  changed  for  rins — little  coins  with 
square  holes,  which  run  ten  to  the  sen  or  twenty 
to  the  penny,  nominally.  By  their  means  the 
worshipper  can  throw  a  contribution  into  the  col- 
lecting-box— whose  yawning  mouth  is  always  well 
in  the  forefront  of  a  temple  —  without  serious 
inconvenience. 

At  half-past  two,  or  a  little  later,  for  we  had 
to  wait  till  some  Japanese  prince  and  suite  had  de- 
trained,the  two  men  from  Natal  and  myself  started 
for  the  north.  They  only  went  as  far  as  Nagoya, 
which  we  reached  about  sunset.  I  went  on  to 
Yokohama,  arriving  there  at  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning  —  310  miles  in  something  over  seventeen 


Kioto  i37 

hours.  It  was  an  uncomfortable  journey,  for  the 
Japanese  railways  have  no  sleeping-carriages.  I 
would  not  think  of  mentioning  this  except  that 
Japan  has  progressed  so  amazingly  that  one  is  led 
to  expect  too  much.  The  ordinary  carriage  was  so 
crowded  that  I  could  not  put  my  feet  up,  and  the 
light  was  too  dim  to  read  by.  In  the  early  morn- 
ing we  caught  uncertain  glimpses  of  Fuji  through 
its  wrappings  of  grey  cloud.  Soon  after  this 
we  crossed  at  a  foot  pace  the  temporary  bridge 
erected  in  place  of  the  one  the  freshet  of  some 
weeks  before  had  destroyed.  It  was  a  matter  of 
peculiar  relief  to  me  to  get  over  it  in  safety,  be- 
cause I  had  feared  that  some  untoward  circum- 
stance might  have  again  blocked  the  line.  I 
had  not  taken  very  much  money  to  Kioto.  The 
shops  had  charmed  from  me  more  than  I  had 
reckoned  on,  and  as  there  was  no  bank  my  letter 
of  credit  was  useless.  So  I  found  myself  in  very 
shallow  water,  and  any  delay  on  the  way  back  to 
the  base  of  supplies  would  have  been  serious. 
As  I  had  no  guide  I  could  not  use  the  vernacular 
to  help  me,  and  with  little  money  that  universal 
language  also  would  have  failed.  As  the  bridge 
happily  stood  firm  I  arrived  at  the  familiar  Grand 
Hotel  on  Tuesday  morning,  and  after  paying  my 
rickshawmen  was  still  the  proud  possessor  of  one 
yen. 

After  a  bath,  breakfast,  and  a  visit  to  the  bank, 


i38  West  and  by  East 

I  caught  a  train  about  eleven  to  Tokio,  where  I 
had  a  few  last  things  to  do.  Going  to  the  Im- 
perial Hotel  for  lunch,  I  found  there  an  Oxford 
man  who  had  crossed  by  the  Empress  of  China, 
and  had  since  been  travelling  by  rickshaw  along 
one  of  the  great  roads,  sleeping  in  tea-houses, 
and  generally  lost  to  the  world,  under  the  charge 
of  an  autocratic  guide. 

After  tiffin  we  went  first  to  the  shop  of  Nami- 
kawa,  a  famous  maker  of  cloisonne^  His  ware  is 
quite  different  from  those  of  other  makers,  and 
is,  I  think,  much  more  beautiful.  As  a  rule  his 
pieces  are  small,  the  background  a  soft  grey,  and 
the  decoration  confined  to  a  spray  of  flowers  or  a 
few  birds,  drawn  and  coloured  most  naturally  and 
most  daintily.  The  wiring  is  almost  invisible, 
and  in  some  parts  of  the  designs  Namikawa,  by 
some  method  of  his  own,  dispenses  with  wires 
altogether.  I  bought  a  little  flat  box  with  a 
couple  of  sprays  of  white  flowers  and  green  leaves 
and  a  cloudy  full  moon  on  a  background  of  grey. 
In  this  the  pattern  is  outlined  in  wire  except  the 
moon  and  the  white  flowers.  As  every  piece  is 
signed  by  Namikawa,  and  as  he  will  not  repeat 
himself,  it  will  be  easily  seen  that,  as  generally 
happens,  this  severe  simplicity  is  really  the 
height  of  luxury.  When  I  was  in  Tokio  before 
I  had  looked  and  longed,  but  with  unusual  prud- 
ence refrained  from  buying.     Now  I  thought  I 


Kioto  139 

might  indulge  my  fancy,  and  thereby  hangs  a 
tale  of  a  fur  coat  which  never  was  constructed. 
When  I  was  in  Nikko  I  was  much  attracted  by 
the  furs  sold  there,  and  hardly  anywhere  else  in 
Japan.  The  prices  asked — or,  rather,  the  prices 
that  would  be  accepted — were  very  cheap,  and  I 
thought  that  by  buying  the  furs  there  and  having 
the  coat  made  by  a  Chinaman  at  Yokohama  I 
might  get  a  cheap  coat  and  also  a  fairly  good 
one,  which  would  be  very  useful  in  America  and 
Canada,  and  on  the  North  Atlantic.  So  I  invested 
in  otter  skins  for  the  outside  trimmings  and  grey 
mountain  beaver  for  the  lining,  and  carried  them 
to  Yokohama  in  triumph.  But  there  the  trouble 
began.  First  the  tailor  said  six  or  seven  more 
skins  were  absolutely  necessary.  Then  Mr.  Mont- 
real, who  was  of  course  a  connoisseur  in  fur 
coats,  looked  askance  at  the  tailor's  cloth  and 
patterns.  And  finally  the  residents  at  Yokohama 
told  me  that  probably  the  skins  were  not  properly 
cured,  and  that  certainly  I  would  not  venture  to 
wear  Yokohama  tailoring  outside  of  Yokohama. 
So  my  visions  of  posing  as  a  Russian  prince  lost 
their  glamour,  and  in  disgust  I  sold  the  skins  to 
the  Chinese  tailor  at  an  alarming  sacrifice,  but 
yet  for  enough  to  buy  a  piece  of  Namikawa's 
work.  Thus  the  skins  were  changed  for  clois- 
onne, and  we  all  were  happy,  especially  the 
tailor. 


140  West  and  by  East 

From  Namikawa's  we  went  a  weary  distance  to 
Asakusa,  one  of  the  suburbs  of  Tokio,  where 
there  are  a  popular  temple  and  still  more  popular 
public  gardens.  It  is  a  favourite  holiday  resort, 
and  I  fancy  there  are  generally  some  people  holi- 
day-making there.  The  gardens  show  all  the  in- 
genuity for  which  Japanese  gardeners  are  famous. 
Not  only  were  there  numbers  of  dwarfed  trees, 
but  the  chrysanthemums,  with  which  the  florists' 
stalls  were  just  beginning  to  light  up  the  city 
streets,  were  here  trained  into  all  manner  of  fan- 
tastic forms.  The  plants  were  grown  on  frames 
in  the  shapes  of  men  and  women,  to  which  carved 
and  painted  heads,  hands,  and  feet  were  added. 
They  were  of  the  small,  close-flowering  variety, 
so  that  when  the  flowers  were  all  out  the  mani- 
kins were  clothed  in  complete  suits  of  purple, 
white,  or  yellow  blossoms.  Sometimes  two  plants 
were  trained  over  the  same  frame  so  that  the 
figure  might  have  a  purple  upper  garment  and 
white  skirts.  The  figures  thus  clothed  were  dis- 
posed in  appropriate  attitudes  with  appropriate 
scenery  so  as  to  represent  an  episode  from  some 
Japanese  story.  Though  the  plants  were  actually 
growing,  yet  the  stem  was  always  so  ingeniously 
hidden  that  it  was  quite  possible  to  forget  the 
fact  and  to  think  the  figures  clothed  in  some  new 
sort  of  manufactured  material.  This,  I  suppose, 
was  the  impression  the  gardener  hoped  to  convey. 


Kioto  141 

He  is  certainly  much  more  successful  in  the  art 
whose  highest  aim  is  to  conceal  nature  than  his 
English  predecessor  who  cut  yew  trees  into  pea- 
cocks, but  perhaps  equally  misguided.  One  of 
these  groups  represented  a  gigantic  figure  stand- 
ing before  a  painted  bridge  and  with  a  huge 
sword  slashing  at  a  much  smaller  figure,  which 
was  suspended  in  the  top  corner  of  the  scene  in 
the  act  of  leaping  the  horizontal  sweep  of  the 
weapon.  It  is  an  episode  from  the  Japanese  ver- 
sion of ■  'Jack  the  Giant  Killer, ' '  and  represents  the 
first  moment  when  the  giant's  power  is  foiled  by 
the  ingenuity  and  activity  of  Jack — the  beginning 
of  the  colossus's  end.  But  besides  the  legitimate 
attractions  of  a  garden  these  grounds  are  full  of 
innumerable  other  delights,  such  as  theatres  and 
acrobats.  We  went  to  see  the  latter  perform, 
and  were  disappointed  to  find  it  on  the  whole  an 
inferior  copy  of  similar  European  shows.  In  one 
corner  a  brass  band,  in  a  burlesque  imitation  of 
an  English  uniform,  played  The  Man  that  Broke 
the  Bank  at  Monte  Carlo.  I  would  rather  not 
further  recall  that  part  of  the  entertainment. 
The  only  performance  that  was  new  to  me  then 
was  one  which  I  have  since  seen  elsewhere,  when 
it  was  called  the  **  bamboo  shoulder  perch  act." 
A  very  miserable-looking  little  boy  climbed  up  a 
bamboo  pole,  some  eight  feet  high,  using  both 
hands  and    feet   like  a  monkey.     The  pole  was 


142  West  and  by  East 

then  slowly  raised  and  the  lower  end  placed  on 
the  shoulder  of  a  young  girl,  and  for  some  ten 
minutes  or  so  the  small  boy  performed  all  manner 
of  gymnastics  on  the  top  of  the  pole  thus  bal- 
anced. He  was  helped  by  a  loop  of  cord  tied  a 
couple  of  feet  from  the  top. 

From  the  acrobats  I  went  to  say  good-bye  to 
my  Japanese  friend,  and  as  the  distance  was  long 
and  time  short  I  took  a  second  man  to  my  rick- 
shaw. The  speed  we  made  was  extraordinary, 
and  I  was  quite  surprised  to  arrive  in  safety  at  the 
house  without  either  being  myself  upset  at  some 
corner  or  having  knocked  down  a  harmless  way- 
farer. As  my  friend  was  expecting  me,  he  had 
ready  a  very  acceptable  afternoon  tea,  but  I  could 
not  stay  long,  as  I  had  to  catch  my  train  for 
Yokohama.  In  the  same  carriage  with  me  on  the 
way  back  was  an  Australian  who  had  come  to  buy 
Japanese  toys,  fans,  and  what  not  for  his  home 
market.  He  beguiled  the  journey  with  lurid 
tales  of  Japanese  commercial  morality  and  of  a 
recent  typhoon. 

Arrived  at  Yokohama,  I  had  just  time  to  dress 
and  rush  up  to  the  Bluff,  very  late  for  dinner. 
The  dinner  was  very  kindly  got  up  in  my  honour, 
so  I  was  informed,  but  I  was  by  this  time  too 
tired  and  sleepy  to  enjoy  it  fully.  The  two 
points  of  greatest  interest  were  a  man  who 
sang    Hawaiian    ditties   most   sweetly,    and    the 


Kioto  143 

extraordinary  number  and  variety  of  drinks  which 
my  host — an  American — pressed  upon  me. 

The  next  day,  Wednesday,  October  30th,  was 
my  last  day  in  Japan,  and  appears  now  as  con- 
fused as  the  landscape  seen  from  an  express-train 
window.  There  was  a  lengthy  visit  to  the  photo- 
grapher's, where  I  went  through  his  many  albums 
and  purchased  a  great  number  of  beautifully 
coloured  photographs  for  a  very  moderate  sum. 
Then  I  went  to  a  shop  in  the  native  quarter  and 
returned  like  a  needle  in  a  bundle  of  hay,  so  hid- 
den was  I  by  a  grass  rain-cloak  and  sundry  great 
straw  hats.  There  were  many  other  last  purchases 
to  make  and  calls  to  pay,  and  all  the  evening  and 
part  of  the  next  morning  were  consumed  in  pack- 
ing and  in  sorting  out  my  curios.  Most  of  these 
I  sent  to  a  forwarding  agent,  who  packed  and 
shipped  them  direct  home  for  me,  a  convenient 
and  safe  way  of  sending  them,  if  a  very  slow  one. 
Perhaps  an  earthquake  that  occurred  this  morning 
may  have  added  to  my  feeling  of  confusion.  It 
was  the  most  violent  I  felt.  My  room  was  on 
the  second  floor  of  the  hotel, — the  top  floor, — and 
the  window,  whence  I  had  just  obtained  the  first 
view  of  Fuji  that  I  had  had  in  Yokohama,  al- 
though the  mountain  is  supposed  always  to  be 
visible  from  there,  looked  on  to  the  roof  of  a  two- 
storied  wing  of  the  hotel.  There  came  suddenly 
a  violent  jolt,  and  I  thought  a  heavy  box  had 


144  West  and  by  East 

been  dropped  outside  my  door.  But  looking  out 
of  the  window  I  saw  the  roof  outside  straining 
and  swaying,  and  realised  that  there  had  been  an 
earthquake.  The  feeling  was  very  similar  to  that 
experienced  when  an  especially  big  head  sea 
strikes  a  labouring  ship  on  a  stormy  night  so  that 
she  is  brought  up  with  a  sudden  shock  and  then 
lies  for  a  moment  quivering. 

On  Thursday,  about  two  o'clock,  I  embarked 
on  the  launch,  and  was  put  aboard  the  Coptic,  a 
White  Star  steamer  under  charter  to  the  Oriental 
&  Occidental  S.  S.  Co.  Some  little  delay  was 
caused  by  waiting  for  the  mails,  and  then  we 
started  down  the  bay  in  beautiful  weather.  At 
the  mouth  of  the  bay  we  met  the  City  of  Pekin 
entering  harbour,  bringing  for  some  of  us  letters 
which  we  thus  missed  by  a  few  hours  and  must 
now  wait  weeks  for.  Before  the  sun  set  Japan 
had  sunk  behind  us  in  the  west,  and  we  had  fairly 
started  for  Honolulu  and  San  Francisco. 


CHAPTER  XI 

HOMEWARDS 

THE  voyage  to  San  Francisco  took  seventeen 
days;  that  is,  ten  days  to  Honolulu,  where 
we  stopped  for  twelve  hours,  and  then  seven  days 
on.  For  the  greater  part  of  the  time  we  had  the 
north-east  trades,  and  indeed  the  log  showed  no 
wind  that  was  westerly  or  southerly.  The  Coptic 
carried  square-sails  on  the  fore  and  main  masts, 
and  these  would  be  set  for  days  at  a  time  without 
any  alteration. 

The  passenger-list  was  small,  about  forty  peo- 
ple in  all,  but  then  she  only  can  carry  about 
fifty.  To  make  up  for  this  we  carried  a  large 
number  of  Japanese  and  Chinese  steerage,  the 
former  mostly  bound  for  Honolulu.  It  was  an 
experiment  tried  for  the  first  time  since  the  war 
to  carry  Japanese  and  Chinese  together,  but  it 
seemed  to  work  amicably. 

Among  the  passengers  were  several  tea  mer- 
chants, most  of  whom  cross  the  Pacific  yearly,  and 
are  therefore  old  travellersand  excellent  company, 
so  that  our  company,  if  small,  was  very  sociable. 
10  145 


146  West  and  by  East 

Though  we  did  enter  the  tropics  the  weather 
kept  cloudy  and  fairly  cool ;  too  cool  for  the  swim- 
ming-tank on  deck  but  not  too  hot  for  cricket. 

We  reached  Honolulu  early  on  Saturday  morn- 
ing. I  had  a  letter  to  the  American  Minister, 
and  he  was  on  the  lookout  for  me.  Under  his 
direction  I  drove  up  to  the  Punchbowl,  a  hill  be- 
hind the  town.  From  there  you  get  a  fine  view 
of  the  little  harbour,  which  is  largely  an  artificial 
one,  of  the  town  lying  almost  hidden  among  its 
trees,  and  of  the  bare  hills  behind.  I  afterwards 
lunched  with  him.  All  the  French  windows  in 
his  house  were  wide  open,  so  that  the  ever-blow- 
ing trade-winds  could  sweep  through  and  keep 
it  cool.  He  gave  me  strange  things  to  eat, — 
Hawaiian  mullet,  poi,  and  breadfruit,  —  and  then 
procured  a  surf  boat  for  me.  This  is  a  long 
and  narrow  canoe,  with  a  log  rigged  about  four 
feet  out  on  one  side  to  prevent  capsizing.  Ac- 
cording to  instructions,  I  wore  a  bathing-suit, 
and  a  hat  to  keep  the  sun  off;  the  water  temper- 
ature was  about  760,  and  that  of  the  air  a  few 
degrees  more.  Although  the  sea  looked  perfectly 
calm,  breakers  were  rolling  up  on  to  the  sand, 
slowly  and  apparently  causelessly.  They  were 
not  very  big,  probably  some  four  or  five  feet 
high.  I  got  into  the  canoe,  with  a  native  at  the 
bow  and  one  in  the  stern,  each  of  whom  was 
armed  with  a  long-handled,  leaf-shaped  paddle. 


Homewards  147 

Paddling  gently  out  we  took  each  roller  with  a 
heave  up  and  a  sudden  drop  down  until  we  had 
gone  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  and  had  reached 
quiet  water.  Here  we  turned,  and  the  boatmen 
watched  till  they  saw  approaching  the  little  swell 
which  their  practised  eye  told  them  would  be- 
come a  roller  larger  than  its  fellows.  Then  they 
set  off  for  shore  at  top  speed,  and  a  moment  after 
the  roller,  now  fully  formed,  caught  us  up.  The 
paddling  ceased  ;  the  forward  man  urged  the 
canoe  on  by  wild  jerks  of  his  body  while  the 
man  in  the  stern  steered  her  with  his  paddle. 
The  boat  tilted  at  a  sharp  angle,  her  bow  dug 
into  the  water  and  sent  up  a  constant  fountain  of 
spray.  On  either  hand  stretched  interminably 
the  roaring,  foaming  slope  of  the  breaker.  The 
whole  performance  was  most  exhilarating  and  the 
speed  great,  but  too  soon  the  breaker  grew  feebler 
and  feebler  and  then  receded,  letting  us  fall 
gently  on  to  the  sandy  beach,  when  the  whole 
performance  must  be  repeated. 

After  this  I  was  driven  about  the  city.  It 
struck  me  as  like  an  American  country  town  ex- 
cept for  the  luxuriant  tropical  vegetation  and 
for  one  or  two  fine  buildings.  My  visit  was 
under  President  Dole's  regime,  but  the  more 
important  buildings  dated  from  the  time  of  the 
native  monarchy.  There  was  an  imposing  palace 
on  one  side   of   the   public  square,   vis-a-vis  an 


148  West  and  by  East 

equally  imposing  block  of  government  buildings, 
with  a  statue  of  one  of  the  native  kings  in  the 
middle  of  the  square.  Altogether  it  was  very 
unlike  what  one  used  to  associate  with  the  Sand- 
wich Islands.  The  beautiful  gardens,  full  of  what 
at  home  are  always  considered  hothouse  plants, — 
crotons,  allamandas,  bougainvillas, —  the  luxu- 
riant hedges  of  hibiscus,  the  palm  trees,  and  ba- 
nanas, were  to  me  a  great  source  of  pleasure  and 
delight,  for  this  was  my  first  glimpse  of  the  tropics. 

Finally  my  host  took  me  down  to  the  steamer, 
and  at  the  dock-gates  bought  for  me  sweet-smell- 
ing garlands  of  flowers,  and  with  these  hanging 
about  my  neck,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
country,  I  returned  to  the  ship. 

On  the  following  Saturday,  the  6th  of  Novem- 
ber,—  for  we  made  up  the  seventeenth  day  by 
repeating  a  day  as  we  crossed  longitude  1800, — we 
woke  to  find  ourselves  in  the  harbour  of  San 
Francisco,  and  a  few  hours  after  we  had  passed 
the  much -dreaded  customs  inspection  without 
any  trouble,  and  were  at  the  Palace  Hotel.  Here 
there  is  a  most  imposing  courtyard,  with  en- 
circling galleries  on  each  story,  and  a  restaurant 
which,  to  us  just  come  down  from  the  high  seas, 
seemed  of  a  superlative  merit. 

The  next  day  I  went  out  to  the  Cliff  House, 
where  you  can  look  clear  out  across  the  Pacific. 
Close  to  the  shore  was  the  Seal  Rock,  covered  with 


Homewards  149 

brown  seals  barking  like  a  pack  of  hounds.  A 
French  man-of-war  had  just  passed  the  Golden 
Gate,  and  as  we  watched  we  saw  her  begin  to 
pitch  clumsily  to  the  swell,  although  from  where 
we  stood  the  sea  looked  perfectly  calm.  I  had 
enjoyed  my  trip  to  Japan  immensely,  but  yet  I 
had  no  desire  to  go  westwards  with  her  across  the 
ocean  from  which  I  had  come. 

From  San  Francisco  I  went  for  a  night  to  the 
Del  Monte  Hotel  with  its  wonderful  gardens  and 
park,  then  to  Los  Angeles,  and  thence  directly 
to  Chicago,  a  hot,  dusty  journey  through  El 
Paso,  Fort  Worth,  and  St.  Louis,  although  the 
train,  the  M  Sunset  Limited,"  was  sumptuous. 
After  a  few  days  in  Chicago,  where  I  was  hos- 
pitably entertained,  I  left  for  New  York  in  a 
yet  more  sumptuous  train,  the  M  Pennsylvania 
Limited,"  which  carried  besides  the  more  usual 
dining-  and  sleeping-cars  a  library,  a  bath,  a 
barber's  shop,  an  observation  -  car,  a  lady's 
maid,  and  a  stenographer.  On  November  19th 
I  reached  New  York,  which  became  my  head- 
quarters, whence  I  made  short  trips  to  Boston, 
Baltimore,  and  other  nearer  places,  and  where 
in  the  intervals  I  was  nearly  killed  with  kind- 
ness. 

On  January  20,  1898,  I  arrived  back  at  Liver- 
pool, in  the  Teutonic,  five  months  and  a  day  from 
the  time  I  sailed. 


150  West  and  by  East 

So  ended  my  voyaging.  Whether  it  was  right 
to  go  so  far,  to  return  so  quickly,  and  then  to 
write  this  may  seem  doubtful.  My  journey  was 
no  Odyssey,  for  adventures,  like  big  game,  seem 
now  to  shun  the  beaten  track ;  nor  are  the  gods 
and  goddesses  still  as  vindictive  as  of  yore.  It 
was  no  Gulliver's  travels  into  remote  parts  of  the 
earth,  because  the  public  is  nowadays  too  scien- 
tific. It  was  simply  a  pleasure  trip,  and  of  such 
a  trip  this  book  aims  to  be  a  reflection  and  a 
remembrance. 

EXPLICIT. 


® 


YB  2904 


M2I7015 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


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